Resident Evil: Mortal Dilemma
by DisclosedBarrel
Summary: Sequel to Dark Days. The situation in the Chemical Plant is tense as William Birkin is out for blood and Scott is having trust issues with his female entourage. As per Claire's stern desire for answers, Scott exposes the truth behind Raccoon City's infection to her and Parker, neither of them are fans. The story starts with an assassination, a naive man and a corrupt cover-up...
1. Monsters of G exposed

Claire was waist deep in cool rushing water for a change. It was coming from a small opening in the ceiling at the far door. The running water was jutting out too fast with high amounts of pressure; they couldn't pass through. The door mechanism required two large coins with a wolf and eagle relief, the slots for them were empty. They went to the door to their left instead, and to their surprise, they saw Annette and Scott crocking up slowly behind.

Scott appeared to be refreshed and able. His lab coat was stained with some blood, but his wounds looked like they've been properly addressed with good instinct as he walked confidently with Annette close by. The four came together.

"Claire!" Scott called.

"You're looking better, Scott." Claire smiled. "You too Annette."

"I feel better, thanks to Annette. If she weren't there to save me, I'd be a goner for sure."

"I owe it all to you, Doc." Annette held Scott's hand, he tried to object but caved in and indulged her. "You're the real lifesaver here."

"Strange… I don't feel like one…"

"Scott, is there any way to get through this water?"

"Yes, there is but right now we need to find Sherry." He let go of Annette's hand and took the lead. "Come on. The dumping area is this way."

This was a tall control room with a short fall close by into more liquids of filth, and there were sights of a higher floor. The elevating bridge on the literal centre of the room made the level in the shape of a seven.

"The control room is above," Scott noted. To their left was a door that would lead into a passage towards the refuse dump. "If Sherry isn't there she will be soon," Scott said shortly after they passed over the bridge.

The three tread carefully over the bridge as there were no railings or anything to hold if one was to slip or fall into an otherwise vile torrent of waste. Scott lead even though he was the one behind Claire and Annette, they were all in front. He was the third wheel, escorting ladies around like a gent.

Scott's hearing wasn't perfect, but he could distinguish the sound of a handgun from behind over the sounds of rushing liquids. A small weapon was cocked behind with a faint click, that was the safety coming off. Scott had darted around first before everyone else caught on.

It was a blonde woman in her late thirties; she wore a very similar lab coat to Scott's own. "Scott you're alive?" the woman exclaimed. "Last I saw you; your body was... lifeless."

"Nice to see you too."

"Spare the pleasantries for later. What do you think you're doing bringing these people here?" she said, "You can't just bring strangers into the facility!"

"Annette..." Scott sighed, tirelessly.

"Yeah?" Annette said from behind. "Oh, there's two of us now?"

"Who are these people?!" the woman sharply yelled, blasting her voice at Scott's direction. Scott gave her the silent treatment. She moved on to the others and lowered her aim, still kept her silver P99 visible at her waist, still in her sights. "What are your intentions here?!" she barked.

"Our intentions?" Parker muttered. "We just want to get out of the city alive."

"We don't have time for this," Claire pleaded. "This is not the time for us to go pointing guns at each other."

"Annette… Sherry's alone in the facility." The woman stared at Scott with terror in her blue eyes. "We're down here looking for her."

"That's impossible… I told her to stay at the police station."

"You know each other?"

Annette glared at Claire, only quick enough say what needs to be said. "I'm Sherry's mother, Annette." She glared back at Scott and took a step closer to him. "What is she doing here, Scott?! You're supposed to look out for her!"

"Annette I'm doing everything I can," Scott stammered. His face heated red. Blood boiling. Face all sweaty. "For fuck's SAKE IT'S BLOODY HARDER THAN IT LOOKS!" he yelled. The sudden outburst of his tone and character took everyone by surprise, especially to Claire. Scott's never usually like that. Annette didn't step back like everyone else did, though.

"Scott!" Claire shouted. "What the hell?"

Annette stayed calm and took the sudden tension with ease. "Indeed Scott. What the hell?"

Scott's face lost most of his blistering red rage of anger, but out of frustration, he threw his arm out. "There are people out there from Umbrella trying to bloody kill me, and it's hard enough I have my own family to safeguard! To be frank, that's a job of its own!" He breathed slowly. "There's not a lot more I can do… Been stuck in the facility for days… I can't go out there without some asshole trying to cave my head in."

"Christ, you're falling apart. Never spoke that brutish to me."

Claire stood forward. "Please help us find Sherry."

"You're right. William will be after her..." Annette loudly mumbled.

"William?"

"William Birkin, Sherry's father. The one which capsized the city into hell to protect G."

"What the hell is a G?" Parker asked.

"The G-virus. The next generation virus our team developed. It was a large project that unfortunately occupied too much of our time, at the expense of our own daughter."

"Next generation virus?" Parker commented. "Is it worse than the one already out there?"

"Tenfold Parker," Scott strained. He coughed and sputtered. "The G-virus is superior to the T-virus."

"It conforms to a living thing and rapidly evolves it to transcendental levels. The host would lose their memories as a human during..."

"All G-viral bioweapons including William can implant embryos into other life-forms. That must be why he's here." Scott coughed. "William's after Sherry."

"What are you implying?"

"William…" Annette sighed. "William injected himself with the G-virus, and as a result, he already began mutating beyond humanity. Bodies of non-related individuals are more likely to reject the embryos. Since Sherry is his daughter, that possibility is non-existent."

"The horrors of inherited survival instinct. Primal or worse."

A scream thundered and echoed throughout the room. It was a distressed, and it was Sherry's. "Sherry..." Annette exclaimed.

"Come on; we have to help her."

"I can't. I have unfinished business to attend to."

"Ugh, you gotta be kiddin' me!" Claire growled. She left the platform in a strop away from Annette's incompetence and crossed over the turning platform. She was followed by Parker. Scott shuffled just past Annette and slowly left her sight but stayed close enough to hear her quiet mumbles.

Annette stayed in her place. She had ties at Umbrella she had to straighten out and was conflicted with the feeling of guilt of holding it against her own daughter. "Scott, if an embryo has been planted someone needs to make the vaccine."

"The DEVIL cure? My research notes for that's back at the P-4 lab."

"If it's in there someone better hurry and get to it."

"You care so much for Sherry at heart, you should as her mother, but where are you in her life, Annette?" Scott left the platform through and stopped at the door ahead. "People like me try so hard to live up to your example Annette, I fail because I put family before work. Maybe you should do the same."

Scott left through the door, and Annette was left to her thoughts. Her colleague had a point in the matter of the situation, though there was more at stake than just Sherry's well-being, he wasn't wrong about that.

The passage was dull and underground. Nothing was out of the ordinary; it did lead to a refuse dumping area. Behind some doors that were far too secure and thick for a common dumping area was the dump itself. Chairs, crates, cardboard boxes, any junk that pops into mind was carelessly discarded in clumps that formed mountains of trash.

Some liquid waste was present, the height of it rested at the waist level. It was warm, and the fumes were rusty enough to melt steel and corrode the breathable air. Though it mostly irritated the eyes, it was okay to trek through for a minute or two. There appeared to be vibrations in the water as it rippled slightly. Sherry was face down on a pile of junk; she was unconscious. Claire rushed to her aid and held her in her arms.

The thick doors closed behind everyone once they traversed into the dumping area. Scott had a good reason to believe that a certain colleague of his was the one who closed them, one that is known to be a snivelling bumbler. It was at the time a loud thundering roar was heard not far beyond the tunnelling system behind them. This disturbed Sherry, and she woke up.

"Claire?"

Claire patted Sherry's back. "Yes, honey it's me. Are you alright?"

"My stomach hurts," Sherry cringed.

"Everything will be okay; we're gonna help you."

 _Deep within the Chemical Plant on the basement level 5, was a semi-circular hall, composed of multiple monitors placed high up on the main wall. In a five-by-five row, only three of them were functioning correctly. This was the Research Facility's monitor room, where it was used to survey all the inside interior and the outside exterior._

 _There was a large whiteboard scattered with notes and memos just next to the monitoring section; they served no use. Old messages and scrawls of researchers and doctors, most of which are likely deceased. Dates, experiments and the occasional sticky notes were plastered all over one corner._

 _Sat on a spinning chair was none other than Dorian Savage. The very late-teen gentleman with styled hair and a crisp two-piece black suit which filled the dead air with the new suit smell. On the desk in front of him next to the ashtray was his P90._

 _He smoked heavily while he spied on many visitors that passed through the facility through the monitors. Of course, it was strange for people to trek through a dead zone for whatever reason so he had to survey._

 _Noteworthy was Claire, Scott, and the Birkins. They didn't matter to him; the VIP was on his list and the monitor. Richard James… He was close. Though he enjoyed spying on people's activities the known bumbler was approaching, he could see it in the corner of his eye. He took out his PDA and got the controls for the security systems up ready._

 _"That's right. Save the girl, save the girl at the expense of your lives. In the end, it won't matter, your time is limited, and your actions are futile." He smoked. "None of you will survive. Especially you Dr Wesker… What a shame it would be ending your sad story."_

 _With a door opening to Dorian's left, right on schedule, was Richard James. Like always he was skittish and hilariously surprised to see him. "No… Anyone but you!"_

 _"Good morning to you too." Dorian smoked. "You're such a slippery character, Mr James. You know that?" Richard tried backing away through the door he came through, but it was locked for some reason he didn't know. "I put the door on a timer. The only way out is through me. I have the entire system here on my PDA, Mr James." He rotated in his chair to face Richard with a smile. "Did you really think you could hide forever?"_

 _"Then you came here to finish me off..." Richard started to tremble in fear. "Can't you see I just want to be left alone?!"_

 _"Quit your snivelling," Dorian got up from his chair, "and take it like a man." He walked right up close to Richard with his M93R in hand. Every step closer Richard looked away to hide his fear, his tears glistened through his spectacles. He had his hands covering his face. "You're not gonna cry, are you?! Christ, you couldn't be more pathetic even if I paid you to be."_

 _"What are you talking about?" Richard snivelled. He was still hiding behind his hands but slowly withdrew them simultaneously with Dorian's M93R. "I'm too smart to die..."_

 _"This is gonna be a shit job." Dorian sighed. He smoked his cigarette on last time and discarded it. "You take the pleasure of killing a human completely out of the benefit don't you?"_

 _"Huh? Are you here to kill me or not?" Dorian rolled his eyes away and stood silent. "You_ are _here to kill me aren't you?"_

 _"If I wanted to kill you – and believe me I do – you'd be dead already… Still… I've been given the order from Derek Simmons to escort you out of the city… That's why I'm here; I'm not here on U.S.S. business."_

 _"So you're not here to kill me?"_

 _"As a survivor of the G-virus team Umbrella would want me to eliminate you, but with the chaos going on around here I'm sure everyone has bigger problems to worry about. Your betrayal of the team has given Mr Simmons plenty of reason to have you escorted out alive through his employer's authorisation. They have plans for you."_

 _"Y-Yes. Simmons mentioned that my services would bloom if Neo-Umbrella becomes a reality."_

 _"I should hope it does. The way things are run now, I'm starting to question Spencer's actions in favour of Master Romanov's."_

 _"Then I'm not the only one. What of Dr Birkin and Wesker? They're still alive."_

 _"They won't survive for too long." Dorian went back to his chair and picked up his P90 and holstered his M93R back under his armpit. "Now come on, the sooner I get your stupid ass to evacuation the better. I don't get paid enough to escort human cattle."_

 _Richard stayed close behind Dorian with the feeling of full protection. He was serene and almost happy. "May I ask where we're going?"_

 _"Main Street."_

 _"Are you mad!? There are still Hunters out there!"_

 _"There are worse things out there than Hunters, Mr James. I can guarantee you that."_

 _"Like what?"_

 _"Like_ me _. Now how are we gonna do this? I can always knock you out and carry you up there. Would you like that you squishy meatbag?"_

 _"What? N-No!"_

 _"Then save me the effort and yourself some brain cells and fall in line. Or are you that much of a pussy, and not the man who had the guts to stick it to the pompous Dr Birkin?"_

 _"When you put it that way..." Dorian sighed. "Lead the way, General."_

 _"Thought we'd never get there."_


	2. William G-Type

The three arrived at a seemingly oblivious unused factory; it was a charade to hide the Chemical Plant from the public. Scott pushed away from the hatch door and climbed the ladder first, he hoisted Sherry from Claire and was followed by everyone else. Sherry was unconscious, but Claire kept her snug in her arm close to her chest.

The turntable control room was looking run down, it was dimly lit from the single light source, and dust was forming everywhere. Ignoring all the worker's equipment of hard hats, work schedules and the latter, Scott went to the only functional terminal at the corner desk. He knew what he was doing.

"What are we doing here?" Parker queried. "We're so far away from the department now..."

"We're in a fake factory on the outskirts of Raccoon," Scott replied, still typing quickly on the terminal's keyboard. "The gondola journey is longer than you'd think."

"Is this where the Chemical Plant is?"

"Yes, it is Claire. We're not too far from a safe room down below either. We just need to take the locomotive down."

"Locomotive?"

Scott turned to Claire and signalled towards the door near him with his hands. "There's a locomotive outside we'll take down into the plant. We'll take Sherry to the security room on basement level four, and we'll get to finding a cure-"

"Then a way out?" Parker interrupted.

"Yes, but not until we save Sherry." Scott came off the terminal as the sound of heavy machinery was heard outside the room. "We're not the only ones coming and going through here, by the way. Someone took the locomotive down already."

"Who could that be?"

"Annette..."

Parker pointed at herself. "Me?"

"Other Annette. Birkin..."

Outside the control room was the said yellow locomotive, it arrived from a few levels below up to theirs on the ground floor. It was around five in the morning as the sun's rays were penetrating through the gloomy grey clouds of the night sky, wasn't enough to make it any less cold.

The sizeable locomotive was as you would expect, large enough to carry a small team. Though the platform had tracks like a train, it had the markings of an elevator of sorts. The activation port had the key in the ignition, and the small machine itself was warm, this locomotive saw a lot of action recently.

With one twist of the wrist clockwise the activation alarm blared loudly. "This turntable will take us straight down to the Research Facility," Scott said, "Ladies first."

There was hardly anything worth mentioning inside, just a somewhat comfortable bench and the train cabin where the controls waited. With haste, Claire rested Sherry on the bench and hunched by her. She thinks she's coming to.

"How are you holding up, honey?"

Sherry held her stomach and curled her back. Her teeth gritted against each other. "My stomach hurts… Really hurts..."

"Please hang in there, honey." Claire brushed Sherry's hair and stood up and walked to Scott for anything on his mind. "She's burning up, Scott."

"There's no doubt she's been injected with a G-embryo."

"What can we do?"

"There's no way to tell how long we have to save her." Scott sighed. "The security room should have something I can use to delay the embryo."

"Is there even a cure?" Parker asked. "We can't waste any time down here."

"It's still in development stages… I have schematics for the DEVIL cure in the P-4 lab in case..."

"In case G ever broke out?"

Scott pushed his spectacles up closer to his eyes. "G was never supposed to break out..."

Suddenly, something heavy lands on the roof of the locomotive. The ceiling depressed from the high mass and the descension halted with an alarm blaring inside. The turntable refused to budge due to some commotion outside.

"Something is out there..." Claire's movements were slow, and her ears were fixed on anything else her eyes missed. "We should check it out." She leapt to the door. "Anyone joining me?" She stood ready at the door.

"Go on, Doc. I'll keep an eye on Sherry."

"Oh goodness… Back into the fray. We can leave Sherry here, for the time being; it's safe enough."

"You're the boss."

Scott left the locomotive with Claire and Parker. With the door opening and closing behind them, it locked itself shut. "Perfect..." he muttered.

"Did the door just lock?"

"Safety precaution."

All was normal for the three when they fanned out to check for their hijacker, or whatever the cause for stopping the platform from elevating down. Lights from the walls were the only source that helped the trio to see through the thick darkness.

Though their investigation was interrupted when a thick crude iron pipe careened down at Scott's direction. It flung over the railing with great speed and force. It gave away their hijacker, and it wasn't a friendly one.

From on top of the locomotive, standing at eight feet in height was the same monster that was prowling around the Police Department. The robust framework of the powerful monster was still wearing the tattered remains of a lab coat with fresh blood smeared all over the flesh-ripping talons that seemed to have grown more since last time.

The beast mutated even more from on top of the locomotive. The head merged within the chest further increasing its muscle mass with another bulge of flesh forming a new face over the shoulders. A large eye protruded through the beefed right arm's tricep, and the talons grew longer and nastier.

"Oh… my… God." Scott took off his spectacles and stood to glare at the monster. "It's William..."

"That's William?"

"He's already evolving beyond his humanity!"

William G-Type hissed harshly and jutted its arms out at the sides, flaring the talons. It leapt down in between Scott, Claire and Annette. Its forceful landing split the three up in three different directions. It growled and twisted its mass at Scott and stared at him with murderous intentions.

"Aw shit!" Scott fidgeted his spectacles back on his nose and repeatedly stuttered, "N… N-No! This is not happening!" William G-Type roared at the top of its lungs and made its move closer to Scott. "Oh, fuck... He's coming after me!"

William G-Type swung his massive claws at Scott, the talons barely grazed the tip of his nose. With his head almost cleaved off in a single blow, Scott took out his handgun and stood up to the monster that was once his trusted colleague and took aim for whatever was left of his human face.

"This isn't supposed to happen..." Scott often hesitated with his handgun and infrequently fired at the monster, his 9mm rounds barely tickled its torso if they didn't break on impact.

There was no trace of William's humanity left in the walking slab of meat; the only fragment was his face that was distorted into the chest area. Claire and Parker couldn't see the face; they had the advantage of being behind William. In a sense it was surrounded, even if it was futile for Parker and Claire to fire their handguns at the monster's back, it was too huge for the 9mm rounds.

Scott ejected his handgun's empty magazine and took out his last one, and he stumbled into the iron railing behind him. With William G-Type hot on his trail he misjudged the distance he was backing away but caught onto the rail. His last magazine dropped into the absolute darkness below, hundreds of feet of nothingness along with his hopes of fending off his dear old friend.

William G-Type threw all its weight into its claw at Scott and caved in the railing behind him, the iron sheets and bars fell below. Scott tumbled to his right away and dropped his handgun, he tried once to reach for it, but William G-Type stepped over it closer to him, to reclaim it just wasn't worth the risk he thought.

Like a game of cat and mouse or a sick hunt for prey, William G-Type chased Scott around the locomotive out of Claire's and Parker's sight. She pulled Claire away by her shoulder to share her thoughts with her about the sudden situation.

"Claire, we cannot fight him with these weapons," she said, "we need something bigger."

Claire turned to a broken railing and peered over the ledge facing down into the darkness below, the lights on the walls just went on and on. The fall was five or six stories at the least and could kill something as mutated and inhumane as William. Someone just needed to tip the scales.

A large sheet of metal was torn from the ground by William G-Type's meaty paw and heaved at Scott's general direction, the force he took to the side of his chest threw him clean off his feet to the ground. Scott wiped his face and noticed that his eyes were all dizzy and hazy, he had dropped his glasses.

Through the cracked lens of his grand spectacles, William G-Type stopped to pick them up and examined them for a few seconds short of the half-minute mark.

What Scott has never seen in B.O.W.s of any sort was it seemed to recollect an emotion. An otherwise simple one. Anger. It crushed Scott's spectacles with its meaty fist and the lens' shards crumpled between the digits.

Scott lifted himself up from the cold platform and felt a terrible urge to vomit brewing within, his diet consisted of terrible rations and medication, and now his little stomach decided to expel that crap? Now of all times?

He saved it until he got back on his feet, then he heaved the sickly yellow bile around his feet in a gruesome pile of slush. Some symptoms that followed were dilated eyes that adequately obscured Scott's vision, he tripped over his feet and landed on the railing behind him out of breath.

Time moved slowly, the effects of nausea mixed with the mild trauma a second ago disoriented Scott's rational mind. He barely made out the situation going on around him, the only thing he could focus on was Claire's voice; she called him to no avail.

Scott always had problems with his head. Had to intentionally punch out the dizzy thoughts out of his mind, with one well-placed strike. His focus was back on William.

Just in the nick of time, Scott threw himself back away from William G-Type while he was about to land another powerful blow aimed at Scott's face. This blow destroyed the railing behind him and sent it down below.

Scott ran for his dear life into Claire's open arms, before she could convince him to keep the monster still and not leading him away from her and Parker's sights he already ran back away and around the locomotive to the other side.

William G-Type turned around to face Claire and Parker's entirely useless gunfire; it looked like it barely tickled it or just broke again on impact, it just stood there dumbfounded on where the target was. William G-Type didn't want Claire or Parker, it… No… He wanted his ex-colleague who was already taking a breather on the other side of the platform.

With both feet planted into the platform, William leapt into the air over the locomotive and plummeted closely to Scott's side, just when he thought he could pause for much needed quick breaths to ease his hyperventilation. The time for relaxing was cut short, the shockwave around William's weight stunned Scott long enough for him to swing his meaty talons at his torso, just as he was primed to retreat further away.

It wasn't fatal, but it wasn't a minor scrape or cut, the blow tore through Scott's lab skin like wrapping paper and his bloody lab coat like it wasn't even there. Scott couldn't feel the wounding at first, though the mindful person he is he still compressed the bleeding long enough to stabilise it, his blood was that tacky and clotted up.

The chase was back on, William hobbled over his weighted feet, shuffling quickly at Scott as the time he rose on his tired legs and backed away to the edge of the platform. The railing was destroyed during the first few seconds of the encounter, Scott forgot about that, fear and tension would make him forget the simplest of things to be. Turning around William was there and to his left was Claire and Parker coming to his rescue.

Scott's warm blood smeared all over Claire's and Parker's hands when they nearly bumped into each other, Scott had no time to talk, he pushed them both off their feet and dived accordingly on the ground with them. Before they could shrug off Scott's stupidity what they didn't know is he, in fact, saved them from William's crude talons from tearing through them, his claws cleaved into the ground below their feet.

There was an opportunity, William's thick nails were wedged into the platform's iron platings, he rearranged his body to pull them out, the smartest of man as a stupid B.O.W. wasted his time pulling and not thinking. Scott saw this opportunity as a window to exploit his weakness, the large pulsating eye in the right tricep was one of them. Wasn't a fact but it was all he could suggest for the three to damage to their advantage to subdue him.

"The eye!" Scott squealed. "Shoot him in the eye!" Claire and Parker stood back up and relentlessly shot at William's extensive mutated eye. The eye couldn't protect itself alone, and William could only grumble and howl during his open weakness, it was all he could do, and it was working against him.

Purple blood splattered and sprayed everywhere, slowly diminishing William's strength, he fell on one knee and lost the will to carry on pulling. Scott drew Claire's extra loaded handgun from her pocket – the Browning she forgot existed – and joined her and Parker in the takedown of William G-Type.

Bullets tore the giant eye, and after one bloated eruption of purple juices, William G-Type howled and pulled his hand from the ground. He toppled over on his back, severely weakened and the rise of his feet was as slow as anything they all seen before him. Then he leant on the railing, still pursuing the three despite the disadvantage of being at only quarter or even a tenth of the power and potential he once had earlier.

As they were about to anticipate William's next strike or Scott retreating, whatever was first. William G-type, in fact, toppled over the empty spacing where the rail used to be, his hand slid off the railing before, and his weight shifted off the platform. Then William was gone from sight and already claimed by the dark below. Scott ceased his hyperventilation and nodded Claire and Parker back inside the locomotive. He went to check on William. He was gone.


	3. Scott's confession

The first steps into the train Scott manned the controls in the front section and continued the descension. Sherry was resting well and was awake. Claire hunched down by her. "Sherry…" she said. "How are you holding up?"

"A bit better. I'm not as tired as before."

"Doc, you're bleeding! You okay?"

"Just a flesh wound, Annette."

Annette felt around Scott's wounds on his torso, ignoring his protest and grunts. She ran her index finger along his cavities and against the ridges, they were thick and smooth. His blood was dry and clotted, sealed the wounds well. "Your shirt and vest are in tatters… Are you sure?"

Scott waved his hand and shooed Annette away. The platform stopped smoothly; they arrived at the destination. Scott was stepping into the back. "Come on," he said, "we're here."

Claire picked up Sherry in her arms. She was fairly light for her age. She, Parker and Scott left the locomotive and looked around. "Where are we?"

"We're four floors below ground level, but we're finally here." Scott pointed to a small room adjacent with a small path leading to an inactive elevator. "We can let Sherry rest in the security room inside."

The security room had signs of recent use, the computers were still on even though it was just displaying live static and a metal kettle nearby on the table under them was warm. Security manuals and documents covered all over the floor without any care for tidiness or organisation for the matter.

Bed and four lockers were in the back of the room; the bed was slept in also recently. Claire placed Sherry on the bed softly to rest and pulled a chair close to her to sit on. Sherry looked cold, so Claire took off her jacket and put it on her while she slept. Scott went to the row of lockers nearby; started ransacking them in his own time. Parker was confused with the static on the monitors and leant on a chair at the desk to stare further into the screen.

Sherry woke and saw Claire watching over her like a hawk. She had waited patiently for her to wake. "Claire?" she yawned.

"You resting okay, honey?"

Sherry sat up and felt Claire's red leather jacket snugly around on her. Up close it still had the brand new smell. "Isn't this your jacket?"

Claire hushed Sherry and laid her back down on the pillow. "It's fine; you keep it. It'll keep you warm and hopefully safer."

"Thank you, Claire. Even though I'm an only child neither of my parents had any time for me because they're always busy with their work. I grew up alone, and the only one there for me was Scott… and now you."

Scott passed Claire and Sherry by and took off his lab coat and tattered shirt, leaving him shirtless and still bloodied. He had a red med-pak and a small tin case under his armpit. "I love you like my own Sherry. You need to understand that your parents do love you but the complications of their lives make it considerably hard to choose family over work. They sacrificed so much to get so close as they are now, it's hard to see anything but."

"You chose family over work," Claire said, "didn't you, Scott?"

"Yes, and I haven't regretted it ever since. They do care for her safety and future, I just fill in the blanks and put her needs above mine – when they're not around."

"Which is all the time. Right?"

"Sometimes," Scott muttered admittedly.

Claire brushed Sherry's blonde hair. "You're not alone anymore. We'll take good care of you and Scott will find a cure."

"You can count on it," Scott agreed. He chucked his lab coat and shirt on the desk next to Parker and opened both of his med-paks and scattered the items over the desk. He left the tin case alone next to Parker – she was still staring at the monitors uncomfortably.

"What were you looking for in those lockers?"

"After using a majority of my meds on Annette and myself, I need to restock the green one I carry around."

Scott scattered all the medication in his med-paks all over the desk and promptly organised them in separate categories. Syringes, bandages, patches and the extra surgical suture was all there. He took a syringe with a clear chemical inside, an absorbent patch and some surgical suture and walked back to the lockers to stand in front of the mirror inside the third locker. Claire was able to see what he was doing in the reflection.

"Fixing yourself up again?"

"Yeah… William landed a good hit on me back on the platform. The bleeding stopped, but someone needs to seal it up." Scott injected the syringe's chemical into his neck and placed the empty syringe in the locker, and with a short breath, he went to cleanse the gaping claw wounds from the dried blood and infections with the soft patch. A man stitching up open wounds with a needle and twine without hesitation was unheard of.

"How can you just operate on yourself like that? Doesn't that hurt?"

"Not at all. I built up what you would consider an immunity… I've taken morphine, so it's fine."

"Won't you be infected with G from the wound?"

"No. The superiority of the G-virus is so advanced a bite, or a scrape wouldn't infect. Through reproductive breeding and... ugh… impregnation can a bioweapon like him make more of. The offence of the monster itself is primarily for killing. I was no less than a desirable target for him to kill."

"Why you, though? When you ran to the other side of the platform William stopped and ignored us..."

"That's something I couldn't answer… Oh?" He forced his fingers into a fresh suckling bullet wound and pulled out a 9mm bullet. Claire gagged at the sight of it all. "A bullet," he exclaimed. "I thought I got them all. Strange..." He threw the bloody bullet over his back, and it landed by Claire's feet. The nose of the bullet was flat; it struck something solid. "Annette," he said, "you haven't said anything for a while. Anything on your mind?"

Parker looked away from the fuzzy static at Scott. "Not really. Just… staring at static."

"Staring at static isn't productive." Scott ceased the healing on his torso and went to the monitor by Parker and switched it off by the wall socket, then did the same for all the other monitors. "It'll fry your brain." He went back to the lockers and stood in front of the large mirror again, to resume his work. He sealed up one of the three wounds excellently with surgical precision, and now moved on to the next one.

Parker folded her arms and started playing around with the medication Scott left out on the desk and slowly moved to the brown tin case. She poked it and picked it up, looking for a way to open it. It was locked with a cheap padlock. "What's in this, Scott?"

"My prescription is in there, and I'd appreciate it if you'd stop moving it around." With a heated grumble of irritation, Scott stepped over to Parker again and took the tin case from her hands. "You clearly need something to occupy your mind, Annette." He put the container back down and gave Parker his empty green med-pak. "Make yourself useful and fill this up with as many bandages and patches you can."

"Sure."

"Thanks."

The large three cavities in Scott's torso was stitched and sealed with surgical perfection, the type he's known for. The bleeding was gone, the bandages were on, and Scott was feeling super. Parker had replenished Scott's med-pak, and Sherry's condition was stable, there was plenty of time to spare, but no one wanted that. The idea everything was coming together was a positive thought. That eased the dire mood.

Scott fired up the kettle and stepped out the room for a minute to leave it to boil; he had taken the tin case with him. Parker was bored while she looked around the green med-pak, it was full to the brim, and the boredom it killed was better than waiting in silence for the good doctor to come on back. When he did, it was only for two minutes or less. His eyes were wide and alert.

Parker handed Scott his med-pak, but he scuttled straight past her and the boiling kettle and to the monitors. He pointed at them furiously. "I told you. Those monitors will fry your brain," he snapped. "Keep them off."

"They are off," Annette chuckled. "I stocked your med-pak."

"Someone turned them on..."

"I don't see it, Scott."

Scott looked around the back of the monitors. The switches for the wall outlet were all off yet he could still see and hear the static. He was confused to be such an idiot. "They're on… I can see them. The loud buzzing..."

"Doc, are you okay? Do you need to sit down?"

Scott inhaled loudly and often; he was almost hyperventilating again. He seemed to have symptoms of a bad cold. His eyes were dilated and heat felt around him was noticeable. "I just need a fuckin' coffee."

Parker sat Scott down on the chair she was leaning on and searched out for a cup suitable for a coffee. One within an arm's reach was plain white with a sickly staining of brown on the inside. "Uhh, here you go…" she said slowly. Scott snatched the cup from Parker's hand and started filling it up with the water from the kettle mid-boil. The pot was empty after he poured the cup halfway, without adding anything else he drank the boiling water against Parker's protests. "What are you doing?" she blurted. "That's boiling water!"

"No, it isn't…" Scott mumbled. "The kettle here is shit; takes nearly an hour to heat and I just remembered there's no coffee down here to mix it with."

"So you're fine drinking… warm water?" Claire said with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm thirsty." With twitchy eyes, Scott stared at Claire. "It's too early to drink coffee anyway…" He sat down at the desk and set his tin case on it. Then took out an empty syringe and a small unmarked bottle. He carefully extracted some liquid with the syringe through the cap and wiped the needle.

"What's in the syringe this time," Claire asked.

"Epinephrine. I have an adrenaline deficiency." Scott jabbed the needle into the veins of his left wrist and promptly injected the chemical into his body. His body jerked, and he fidgeted intensely on the chair and smoothly came to a relaxing state.

With Scott taking short breaths, Parker took the chance to satisfy her curiosity and took a peek in Scott's tin container while he was none the wiser. She was startled when he suddenly leapt out of his chair, and for a second she thought he was going to scold her. Instead of doing so he threw away his mug and hushed everyone in the room.

"We didn't say anything," Claire pointed out.

"Everyone just quiet down," Scott stuttered. "Quiet down..." He placed his ear on the screens of every monitor, stopping on the one furthest away in the corner opposite Parker. There was absolute silence, Claire and Parker dared not to bother whatever game Scott was playing.

He was so preoccupied Parker took the chance to check inside the tin case he seemed overly protective about. She flipped the lid and under the syringe and the epinephrine were small phials of the purest of whitest powder she had ever seen. Didn't look like any prescription she seen in her life. What prescription required this powder? Scott finished whatever he was doing and sat back down.

"Finished?" Claire asked. "You're kinda freaking me out over here."

"You may not see or hear the static as I do," Claire groans in frustration, "but before they went off I swear I heard something…"

"Right... This makes no sense. Why are you acting up all of a sudden?"

"I might be able to answer that," Parker said with a phial in hand. One filled with the white powder. "Scott… what's inside these?" Scott stammered and swore under his breath though didn't answer. "If I didn't know any better I'd say this powder looks far too similar to cocaine."

"You can't be serious..."

"I am, Claire… I know what drugs look like when I see them."

"What?!" Claire exclaimed, jumping from the chair she was sat upon. "Scott! You're on drugs?!"

Scott saw that his epinephrine and the empty syringe was still out and his prescription tin case was seized. He forgot to pack them away before listening to the… static. "It's… how I get by…" He stammered. "It's my medication..."

"How long have you been on drugs for, Scott?!" Parker surprisingly said with a mean scowl.

Scott scratched his itchy cheek and chin. "I have reasons for taking them… My physician prescribed them-"

"Not an answer..."

"Two years… It helps me… cope with everything going on down here… I salvaged meds… food and anything that can help me survive. I had problems with B.O.W.s butchering employees… and days without sleep and… rest… I done… bad things here… I need to do what I can to survive. To… redeem."

Claire stopped Parker's questioning and forced her attention. "Listen, Annette. let's wasting our time..."

"You're right." Parker set down the tin case. "We're here for Sherry. This is getting us nowhere."

"Scott, can you just hold it together until we cure Sherry?"

"Yes..." he stuttered. He exhaled and breathed normally. "Apart from the side effects, I'll be back to myself in a minute or two."

"That'll do… Pack up your… coke and leave it here. We're moving."

"Yes, Claire." Scott put away his epinephrine and syringe back into the tin case and went to the lockers behind him. Putting away his prescription in the third locker. He opened the fourth and took out a weapon that was just collecting dust. It was a loaded M79 break-action grenade launcher and with a fresh six-pack of corrosive acid grenade shells. "I have something for you, Claire."

"Oh goodness..." Scott threw the launcher at her; she caught it easily with a wide grin. "Thanks! This'll come in very handy."

"See that it does." Scott handed Claire the yellow six-pack of grenades. The shells were filled with corrosive acid. "Come on, let's go find a cure."

Claire slung the M79 over her shoulder via sling. It was the perfect length of leather. "Will Sherry be safe here?"

"The room is sturdy with soundproof walls. She'll be fine as long as no one knows she's here."

"Were you acting strangely because of the things you took, Scott?"

Scott snorts. There was some cocaine residue left in his nostrils. "Yeah… My doctor prescribed them to me for medicinal purposes."

"Right..."

Exiting the security room with Parker at his side they followed a sign that said "MAIN SHAFT", leading to what else? The main shaft. A long corridor leads to an elevator, but there was a terminal that required a key. At the shutter doors, Scott looked back at Claire who had a blank expression and was still lingering outside the security room. He waved off Parker to go on ahead on her own to find the P-4 lab, she was reluctant at first, but she nodded with confidence and went along with Scott's order.

"Got something on your mind? Your curiosity is glowing."

"Is it that obvious?" She folded her arms. "The more I think about it, the less I can trust you. I'm finding it really hard to cooperate with you..."

"It's not about the drugs is it?"

"It's not about the coke."

"Listen I have my reasons for taking them. You have my word."

"I'm sure you do."

"You got trust issues with me?"

"You're one of the people responsible for G, and you're a coke addict-"

"I'm NOT addicted!" he barked.

"You get the point. Over the years I was dating Zaac..." she sauntered up to Scott and stopped, "I felt you were the caring brother type like mine. You worked for Umbrella, you knew William, and you had something to do with the G-virus..."

"What do you want from me?"

"The truth, Scott."

Scott looked away from Claire and rubbed through the standing hairs on the back of his neck. Thinking about his actions. Claire stepped into his view. "If I tell you the truth… there's no going back. You'll think of me as a monster."

"I'll take that chance if you will."

"It's only for fairness and for the better you hear it from me than any asshole like… Richard or Annette…" He took off his spectacles and put them in his rear trouser pocket. "It started a little over two years ago… I was just a trainee back then, doing what you would expect a student of sorts would do. Study…"

"Was that before or after you took drugs?"

"Before everything. Before my soul fell apart, I was the top student in all of Umbrella's history, top of every class. Hardly anyone came close to my qualifications, grades and degrees. Umbrella has some of the country's most intelligent people, and I studied for and under most of them… I owe them for everything I learned since I joined in 1990."

"That's right. Zaac said you went to Raccoon University back then. Funded by Umbrella… But when you were a trainee two years ago what changed that to the..." Claire hesitated.

"Say it..."

"What changed in you…? Why are you such a wreck?"

"After I participated in an U.S.S. operation, one that changed my life in ways I… I regret... Umbrella's director and founder ordered the assassination of one of the other surviving founders of the company, and William had the glorious idea to use the operation to elevate their fondest trainee. Me… The director obliged and used the assassination as a means to test my loyalty. I wasn't told about the operation until it happened..." Scott's shoulders sagged forward and his back slouched.

"What happened?"

"William and the U.S.S. accompanied me to what I thought was just a standard Umbrella procedure or protocol. An initiation into the working world of researchers perhaps… I was soooo naive back then."

"Why?"

"Because when I recognised the facility, I thought we were there to see my favourite teacher - the other living founder. I was always happy to see him you see; he was my idol… above anyone else, I looked up to him. Then that day I was told that he had committed unforgivable atrocities against Umbrella and the director… I couldn't believe it…" Scott's shoulders dropped lower and his eyes tears. He stayed strong and didn't stray into despair. "My idol committed… murders and acts against nature and humanity..."

"That's what Umbrella does..."

"They didn't start like that at first. Back then I never knew the horrors Umbrella hid in their closets during my scholar days… I worked long and hard to be like those biologists and virologists, yet I knew nothing of their tainted history.." Scott wiped his face with his dirty sleeve and straightened his back. His tears were still irritating his eyes to a bloodshot red. "The director had evidence that the other founder was conspiring against him, and after I heard of his… disturbing track record I wanted nothing to do with him… if he were to overthrow him, the other founder would have the country's pharmaceutical giant to fund his inhuman research. Someone had to do it, but I couldn't bring myself to killing him-"

"Who did you kill?" Claire interrupted.

"Marcus… Doctor James Marcus..."


	4. Blind betrayal

"So you killed your idol. The one you looked up to. The other founder?"

"Correct on all three terms. Most of everything I learned was from him. The lectures, extra credit and homework were always for him, to reach his expectations and hopefully safeguard a future in Umbrella. Always dreamed of being like him. If I knew all of Umbrella was corrupt and malicious back then, I would've walked out as soon as I got the chance."

"Couldn't you just leave Umbrella's clutches?"

"Most people are in service until death… foolish until death, and when you're a child prodigy things are different."

"How different?"

"Umbrella did everything they could to make me comfortable, so I would never leave. They couldn't afford to lose me to anyone else and refused not to give me all the luxuries. And boy, it worked so well. Until they got me to kill Marcus."

"When did you participate in his murder?"

"There was no participation… I killed him myself. That's right. The student killed the teacher. Irony at its finest."

"Right… That happened two years ago? When you were a trainee. Don't tell me you were you still naive back then after… you know..."

"I wasn't. Opened my eyes to things I never wanted to see but they were open."

She folded her arms. "Then what kept you in Umbrella? You killed the man you look up to, and you still stayed… Why?!"

"They promoted me… gave me the same salary as William and within a week I was working with him and Annette. I even shared their assistant. I wasn't a student or an assistant… All the work I put in, and after that day I was in my element as a researcher. A biologist."

"Richard was the assistant. Wasn't he?"

"Unfortunately."

"So that's how you were assigned to the team." She threw her arms and relaxed them on her hips and paced slowly in a circle. "Killed Marcus, got a promotion and now you're working with a good friend no doubt. Sounds fantastic…"

"I thought I could put my skills to better use. I wanted to change the world."

"Was it worth it?"

"Excuse me…"

"Was it worth it?" Claire repeated.

His lips trembled. "How can you say that?"

"Then why did you take the offer to kill him? You could've walked away; it wasn't your concern..."

"I didn't want to do it, but someone had to, and I took the chance-"

"The chance for what?!"

He was silent with a pause for a short breath before he resumed. "Money… Claire, I needed money..." he sobbed. "My student loans landed me in debt, my brother was out of a job, and my father wasn't around… It was all on me. The bank was gonna foreclose my house and the car."

"And your teacher meant nothing in comparison?"

"After I heard the crims, maybe but… Claire… it wasn't about my things. I could… I could handle the situation but… my fiancée… she was pregnant… Then I got handed ALL the hospital bills. They weren't good..."

"Oh damn it. I never knew."

"I needed the money because of my family… I had to make investments to get out of debt, and I had no money to do it because of that credit card scandal that year. And do you know how much it was to raise a child the same year you lose your father? Brothers to support..."

"I remember that. Thousands were laid off work."

"That's why I killed Marcus. Everything came down on me out of nowhere, and he was the only way out. Then this happened..."

"The infection? What does Marcus have to do with this?"

"Not Marcus per se, but recently I had found out that he and his research wasn't disposed of properly and I took offence to that and brought it up with William. This was the same day we finalised the G-virus."

"Still waiting..."

"The moment I'll tell you… there's no guarantee if it'll make things better between us..."

"Until someone knows the truth I'll take the chance." She folded her arms. "The more of us know, the better chance the truth will get out of the city." Scott said nothing. He was thinking. Staring at the stone floor. Thinking about the floor's features. Claire broke the silence. "Scott," she said, "I need to know. My boyfriend - your brother - died doing his job because of this outbreak If you care for him in any way like I do then you better honour him and tell me the truth."

He inhaled deeply and rolled his eyes to meet Claire's. "For the record, I'm only saying this, so you know it's the truth, and you won't try and kill me-"

"Depends really..."

"Oh God…" he breathed.

She stepped closer to Scott. She could feel his breath reflecting off her face. They were short and stuttered. "I went to William and confronted him about Marcus, and why he wasn't properly disposed of. You know that. It was because... he was reanimated by the T-virus and had an outburst in one of our facilities," Claire went to interrupt, but he continued over her, "that outburst cost the lives of over two hundred Umbrella personnel. That was the Ecliptic Express Incident, the one that leads to the Mansion Incident the day after. They were innocent workers, and Marcus killed them. So I brought it up with William."

She covered her mouth. Silenced her words. She couldn't care about most of what he said, but she heard of the Mansion Incident from Marvin. Deaths of several S.T.A.R.S. members including Scott and Zaac's father and her boyfriend's sanity. No wonder Scott brought it up to William, if she were in the same position she would be beyond furious.

"You were right to do that."

"Not as much as you'd think. Because after that we got to talking… we got to arguing. I stated the T-virus was nothing but trouble and it was getting people hurt and even killed, as I heard from the incidents. They were confidential but I hacked the network, and I finally found something I can use to prove my point. I never knew they were going to use the T and G-virus to sell to the military and black market, honestly. When I bypassed the firewall, I was going to bring the project down. I had the leverage to do just that."

"What did you need leverage for?"

"To convince William to cease the G-virus research. With facts, I tried so hard to get him to change his ways but I wasn't talking with to my friend or colleague, I was talking to a madman, lost beyond his brilliance and legacy. Once I realised he wasn't giving me much choice I decided it was futile."

"What did you do?"

"I… shot him..." Claire's eyes shot wide open. She scoffed and huffed. "I… ugh. William. I… I..."

"You killed William?!" With a fierce scowl, she clutched Scott's shoulders and heaved him against the wall of the security room. Scott couldn't budge, her grip was forceful, and though she was shorter than him, she glared at him and had the advantage. "Why?!"

He had his hands raised, surrendering himself to Claire's wrath. "I never said I killed him."

"You intended to. Didn't you?"

"He gave me no choice! I had to take him down. If the G-virus were controlled by Umbrella, they would sell it as a weapon. All of Central America would fall apart."

"Lies upon lies upon more lies!" She let go of Scott against the wall. His weight sagged slowly down on his weak knees. "I can't believe you could be so bloody blind Scott!"

"I survived on leftover scraps until I got to the department. For the last year now I've been nothing less than a washed up old fool!"

"Great…" She leant on her right him and rolled her eyes. "What happened after that?"

"Nightmares… I was falling apart back then, like I am now, over the atrocities I committed myself for the sake of my career. Only after some surgery, I was fine. Recently when I found out most of the truth behind Marcus, the viruses and the future for G, I realised my mistakes all over again. I reopened my eyes and left behind my false feel-good persona and decided to quit Umbrella and make sure the project dies… I hoped William would see reason, but he had to die with the project. I wasn't a good shot, but I disabled him..." His head rolled with his back arched forward. "I'll be lucky to get the death penalty after this. Oh, God..."

She couldn't look at Scott; he was half the man he used to be. The smart, intellectual man was falling apart and almost looked like a miserable out of work douchebag, one that smelled of body odour and crusty mud stains that also blended with the dried blood on his collar and sleeves. At least she hoped it was mud and not dried blood. She turned away but arched her head to at least her Scott's future ramblings.

"What happened between you and William?"

"I begged him to listen to reason, only his ego and life's work got in the way of that. So skipping the part where I tried to kill him, the U.S.S. stormed the lab and gunned us both down. They got away with the T and G-virus samples. Everything went black, and I thought I was going to die… Before the lab was stormed William only just told me that there was a traitor on the team."

She suddenly turned around to face Scott with a quick spin on her heels. "A traitor? That must be one of the reasons why William didn't trust you unless you already knew that."

"I didn't. I never knew until after I pulled the trigger. He accused me though, and after he had heard I had no idea, we both suspected the same person. Our assistant."

"Richard."

"Richard gave away our location to the U.S.S. to save his own bloody skin! The way we acted down in the Chemical Plant was a prime example of how much I hate him. The T-virus leaked because someone betrayed the team. The director ordered the U.S.S. to steal the G-virus by ANY means necessary, and the use of lethal force was the type they used to steal the samples from us." He sat down in a slowly forming puddle of filth that dripped from a crack in the ceiling above. His ass was wet with murky water instantly. "If I couldn't ask William to help with reason, I would have to use force to steal the samples from him and destroy them. Though with the betrayal from Richard the U.S.S. gave me no time to get away with the samples. It was all because of him… Our position was breached, and they gunned me down before I could leave."

"And you've been down here ever since?"

"Yeah… That was days ago."

"So William had the samples, then you, now the U.S.S. How did they get into the city?"

"Local vermin spread the T-virus throughout the city. Personally, I haven't seen the catastrophic hell in person but… my fiancée, Cindy… she saw the hell up there…"


	5. Outbreak

It was an average Monday in Raccoon City, in the late evening of Jack's Bar & Grill. J's Bar was one of the best pubs in the city. It was an honest one with honest people and patrons. That's why people enjoyed the bar. An honest pint with good music and food. What could be better? The day wasn't fair... Behind the heavy rain bombarding the stained windows, there was thunder in the clouds. Any Monday can rob a person's delight. They were just bad and uneventful.

The weather was silent with smooth '80s masking the sounds and vibrations from outside; someone left in on a loop. There were only a few everyday Raccoon citizens left having their respected drinks. To pass the time, to enjoy time off work or just seeing some good honest workers of Jack's family. J's family. The bar had three tables for the large three plain windows. The tables had two stools each, and the table were large empty oak barrels. Jack loved the flair it brought for the single patrons. The bar was natural smoothed wood with a small kitchen and fridge back behind for the bar food. Small snacks and nibbles.

Sat the bar was an R.P.D. officer still in his black SWAT gear, the Officer enjoyed a cold tonic on the rocks, possibly scotch or a bourbon. He was on his third tumbler. Two guards next to the officer were both elderly, one was taller and wider, and the other was small and older, both Guards were both dining on a bar dinner. The older man was falling asleep on the stool. Crocked up to a table by the large window was a fine employee of Kite Bro's Railway, the Employee was going away at a fresh book of crossword puzzles. He liked challenges.

Alone at a regular table was a doctor of Raccoon's General Hospital, the Doctor was tucked into a good book, The Gods among us, it was called. On the other side of the bar near the restrooms was a local town plumber in an orange jumpsuit, the Plumber always was a natural loner of very few words. He was enjoying his fourth tumbler of scotch.

At another table by the window was a young heartthrob of a woman in red typing away on her laptop, the Reporter was working on a personal report on the city's current situation. She wanted her story to be huge. Walking into the woman's restroom was a young Asian woman in casual wear, the Student adored herself in the mirror and played with her hair, brushing it with her fingers.

Armed with some scissors, she started to trim her long black locks, with a smile. Standing by at the bar was the assistant manager, Will. This young man was an eager gentleman with manly aspirations for his love for hospitality and certain co-workers. If he wasn't pouring pints, he was cooking like a master chef. Then there was the barmaid, Cindy Lennox, the blonde and peppy face of J's Bar. With a serving tray in hand and plenty of glasses and tables to clean, she was in for a slow successful finish to an otherwise dull Monday evening.

The mood was tired and sound, though any silence was broken by the soft music and the flickering TV monitor in the corner of the bar. The TV was already ten years out of date when it on the store shelves. It was fuzzy and slightly distorted. I meant well for Jack, and it meant well for the customers. All nine of them. Even in spite of the crutches, J's Bar was a hotspot for all citizens. Chaos started to turn as the news came on. Middle-aged man in striped blue was bringing up the situations the city was having.

"There was a disruption at today's football match with the Raccoon Sharps and Old Court Thunders," he announced. "Apparently the game was interrupted when an unruly fan went out of control and sparked a riot." With some seconds to digest this information, the News Reporter carried on as the eyes of the bar patrons took an interest in the story. Not all of them cared and eventually carried on. The eyes of Cindy and the Officer stayed on the news a bit longer. "The numbers of injuries is not known, but many casualties have been confirmed."

After collecting a tray's worth of glasses and plates, Cindy had to go to the bar to unload the dirty crockery and swap for an empty tray to resume her usual work. It was only her and Will on close down tonight, and business was slowing down. Behind the scenes of the bar, the staff often had constant trouble keeping certain pests out of the pub. Basic health and safety. One sickly rat dashed across the floor by Cindy's feet and scuttled out of everyone's sight. The sight of the vermin startled Cindy, and she dropped her serving tray because of it. Glasses, cups and plates crashed to the floor. All in pieces.

Everyone at the bar stared at her, the sound of smashed crockery echoed loudly. With a giggle with some embarrassment sprinkled in, she went away behind the bar to look for a broom. There was a black hand broom and scoop set there. It was an old set but the only one available. Then the door creaked open, and another patron shuffled in. The Crasher's long black hair hid his face and his hunched back hidden it further. Blood was splattered over his casual shirt, jacket and jeans. His moans were deep and off key.

The Crasher wasn't a regular, Will have never seen the man before. His eyes bulged and narrowed on the Crasher's face but to no avail to fully see his features. Then his moaning started to drag on. Will had to find out what kind of game the guy was playing and that's when he left the bar and confronted him. That's what Jack would do if he were a common drunk trying to get an easy fix.

Up close Will tried to get a response by getting the Crasher to speak and leant in to see his face. Then the Crasher straightened his back and groaned loudly, baring his face. His eyes were pasty and white and the look of hunger radiated from his glare. Will adjust his stance and kept his hand close to his pocket, that's where he had Jack's snub-nosed special .38 revolver tucked into his belt. Jack had security problems with hooligans lollygagging about the recent days and took action.

Now the manager of the day is advised to carry a handgun for self-defence. It was okay; the Crasher was just Elliot. He was an egomaniac drunkard and a good customer. He was harmless… Elliot clutched Will's shoulders and came in closer. Probably wanted a hug, or to keep his balance. That was just like him, a rocking joker. Why wasn't he wearing his sunglasses? He always does. It wasn't a hug...

Out of earshot, Elliot's jaws sank into Will's neck, no one noticed until he started to howl from the gritty pain. The zombie that was once Elliot chewed off mouthfuls of flesh from Will's neck like slow-roasted pork shoulder. Blood flickered around their feet as they shuffled towards the bar behind Will, but he was able to keep the zombie from pushing him back. With all his strength, Will heaved Elliot back outside in the cold and slammed the front door shut. He fiddled with the lock mechanism and locked it solid. He was dizzy. His legs trembled under his weight, and his eyes were all blurry. Will fell onto the oak door and slowly slid down, lower and lower. "What the hell was that?" he whimpered before he fell unconsciously on the cold floor.

Cindy stood in fright of seeing the once good regular lash out at her best friend. She stood with her mouth agape and skin as white as snow. It was chilling that no one else noticed after the zombie came in, they just assumed it was something completely different. As if he was just hugging Will or just engaging in tomfoolery. Then something slammed on the thick windows outside. Two zombies were pressing their faces against the glass. Then more passed by and did the same. They all tried to beat down the window with their flailing limbs. The uninvited guests crashed the party. Their race for survival was about to begin...

The Employee rocked off his chair from seeing hungry faces chomping at him outside; then the Reporter came by to scramble him back on his feet. He began to panic and fidgeted in her grasp until she shook it out of him. The Doctor closed his book and bookmarked it without any notice. The Officer at the bar was focused on the crazies outside. And the Plumber didn't give a fuck. He finished his tumbler and slid off his stool unannounced.

The Guards were talking amongst themselves, and Cindy was frozen. Her body movements were stuttered. At the end of it all, they counted seven heads, seven hungry heads banging on the door and windows. Knocking for dinner. The thick glass will hold, but for how long? Only Cindy knew, and she was almost hysterical if she could break from the sudden shock.

The moans, groans and grumbles from the outside built up in unison and bored through the windows and cracks of the pub, echoing inside. Sounded like a deep, distorted mumble. No one was swayed just yet, mostly confused but not totally swayed. The zombies bashed and bludgeoned their faces against the window, smearing blood all over, in a feeble attempt to break through. The people outside have long since lost their sanity.

The Student charged out from the woman's restroom and entered the scene. She was breathless and reasonably calm. "There's someone in the vents!" She took a look outside and felt the added horror. She whimpered.

"Yeah, and it's not alone. Look at them out there!" the Reporter said throwing her arm out to point at what she thought were just crazy people. That was what everyone thought.

The Employee started to panic again. "What are we gonna do?!"

"We can calm down for a start. It's nothing new, just a few party crashers..."

"WILL!" Cindy finally cried. She leapt from behind the bar and quickly knelt down to Will. He was unconscious, and blood was gushing from his neck. His shirt was all stained red with his blood.

The Officer turned around on his stool and finished his drink. The problem with the barman wasn't something he noticed until he saw that his favourite barmaid wasn't at the bar and was, in fact, sobbing somewhere behind him. "Hey, Cindy, is everything okay?" Cindy was still sobbing and was in no condition to use her full words before falling back into tears.

The tall Guard reared his head to the Officer. "What's going on Kevin?" he asked.

"I don't know, Mark." Kevin approached Cindy and sat by her. He saw that Will was unconscious and possibly near death. Cindy was still sobbing. "Oh my God… What happened?"

Cindy rested Will's body inside her arms and held him close. His skin was cold to the touch and turning pale. Her hands were smothered in his blood. "I… He… I couldn't, I..." Cindy whimpered. "There was a guy… He attacked Will..."

"Kevin… What's going on over there?" Mark asked again.

"I don't know."

Kevin being an officer of the law, a drunk one to be exact, knew where to check a man's pulse. Around Will's neck and wrist, there was nothing. He was gone. "Cindy… I… I think he's..." Suddenly, a limb breached through the glass in the door. The force of the zombie's arm rocked the door's old hinges, and it started to come loose. The door wasn't going to hold much longer.

The windows were faring much better than the door from the stronger material and thickness. The group of zombies outside were building up in alarming numbers. There were at least eight of them now, all banging and thudding their weight against the window. It was only a matter of time until they got inside. Kevin sprung onto his feet with his handgun in hand and waited for the inevitable. His handgun was .45acp, black-plated and also his favourite. Seven rounds were good for seven kills, the last few he could probably beat to death with pistol-whip or two. He settled for the makeshift barricade. Kevin pushed one of the barrel tables against the front door. That was better.

"Oh my God! They're waiting outside!" the Employee cried, "Just waiting until someone lets them in to kill us all!"

"Can somebody please slap some sense into that idiot," the Plumber said. He had just finished his tumbler and now put on his dirty brown gloves.

The Reporter slapped the Employee at the back of his head. He yelped and started rubbing the pain away. "The fuck that was for?!"

"You're freaking us out, dude." She never usually uses the word 'dude'. The thick glass by the door started to give away. Cracks were forming in the middle and spreading fast; then the other window began to crack. The second window split faster. The zombies outside were all throwing themselves against the windows without hesitation. "Actually scratch that, now might be a good time to freak out."

The windows gave away. Both were breached simultaneously by the zombies outside, and the shards littered the ground. The zombies all moaned, and their stomachs grumbled even louder. Nine of them in total were trying to pass through the hole where the window was. The bottom of the frame was too high for them to vault over and so because of it, they all just idly tried to wriggle over it. Their intelligence wasn't exactly booming. Then the front door broke from the hinges and fell. Only the barrel table was left standing.

"Oh my God! I'm gettin' out of here!" the Employee cried. He scrambled around the corner where the restrooms were and ran at the small window in the back. Within a few seconds, there was the sound of glass smashing and then nothing.

"Dude!" the Reporter called angrily. It was too late. The Employee was gone. She turned around and faced the bar and saw the Plumber was also gone. Everyone was making a break for it.

The Doctor was missing too! He wasn't at the table. The Reporter stared closer at the zombies outside. Their faces were torn apart with reckless abandon, and their eyes were pasty white and soulless. With the horde pressing themselves as a group, they pushed a single zombie through the smashed window. The tallest of the few. It rolled over the glass with the crunching sound alerting Kevin and Mark. They stood up with their handguns at the ready. Mark's handgun was a regular 9mm Beretta; it gets the job done as good as Kevin's .45 automatic.

Kevin was the first to fire and destroyed the lanky zombie's head with a single round. Blood and parts of the brain were splattered over the corpse. The Reporter exclaimed loudly and fled the bar. The situation here was too hot to handle, and she was too good for it. Within a second after the first zombie biting the dust, she ran. Then more zombies forced their weight at the windows, shoving each other everywhere trying to vault or at least spill themselves over the ledge. Then three of them were already inside, crawling on the floor and slowly shifting their weight up on their feet.

Kevin and Mark opened fire on the three shufflers with a small barrage of small arms gunfire. The bullets tore through the zombies' bodies and ripped chunks of rotted flesh off their brittle bones. The zombies outside never cared. They exist only to infect, that's their instinct and their only mindless ambition. While no more zombies were toppling into the bar, from the lack of bodies for press against each other outside, Kevin got back to Cindy to try and encourage her to help them escape the bar. She was unresponsive and still in shock.

Cindy took a key with a green tag from her pocket and chucked them to Kevin. He caught them and looked at them. "Take these," she said. We'll meet up in the staff room. I… I need a minute alone."

"You got it," Kevin nodded. He walked past Mark who was still standing ready, watching the zombies at the window. "Mark, get your friend. It's time to go."

"All right Kevin. Lead the way." The zombies weren't making any effort trying to get inside since the last four and were just milling around outside. Then they s moved towards the door.

Mark's friend was at the bar, completely oblivious to the situation at hand and could hardly walk due to his older age to Mark's. Mark pressed his shoulder up to his friend and moved him from the stool and followed after Kevin. The green door behind the bar in the back was open, and just like that, Cindy was all alone for the minute she wanted. In the worst of times, everyone fled. Cindy took a heavy sigh over her best friend. Her dead best friend.

"Will… You were so happy today." She brushes her thumb against Will's neck bite. It was torn open with his blood still running down her other arm. "I can't believe he's gone," she sobbed. "How could someone do this to him?" Will moaned and moved his face away from her slightly. "Will?" Will's eyes suddenly opened and he lunged his weight at Cindy in an attempt to bite her alluring neck. "Somebody help me!"

She was thrown onto her back, though she still managed to resist Will's influence reasonably well. On top of her, he was stronger all of a sudden. His jaws were snapping at her. His eyes were a pasty white. He was no different than the lost souls outside. "HELP!" she cried at the top of her lungs. The small wooden grip of a revolver was seen tucked into Will's belt. She required a distraction to obtain it, otherwise, if she lost the tiniest amount of strength Will would tear her jugular.

Out of nowhere, bullets whistled through the air and struck Will twice in his shoulder. His body jerked and twisted away slightly and from that he lost an arm's worth of grip on Cindy's shoulders. This was the distraction. Cindy pulled out the .38 revolver from Will's belt, and pistol-whipped him across the cheek. His head rocked back, and from there she kicked his weight off her with a mighty boot to his stomach. She scrambled up to her feet and aimed at Will's face. His expression was blank, and his skin was pale. He was just a shadow of his old self, yet she still hesitated.


	6. Pub crawl

She squeezed the trigger and closed her eyes. "I'm sorry Will," she whimpered. After the round struck Will's head, his body jerked and untimely fell completely still. Kevin grabbed her by the arm and ran. They both left the bar and headed upstairs into the staff room. As they closed the door behind them, the front door fell, and zombies started to shuffle inside.

With everyone accounted for upstairs in the staff room, Cindy, Kevin, Mark and his older friend Bob. They assembled in the sitting area. Different rooms were branching from the small corridor. The lounge was small with some good leather seats, a fully stocked fridge and a sizeable TV. Everyone was still tense and were all unable to relax. All on their toes, they all started thinking about what to do next.

Firstly, Kevin decided to try and board up their retreat, the stairs the led them into the staff room. Cindy pointed out some planks of wood and a nail gun. Mark and Kevin got on that while she milled around by a door that goes upstairs. The blue marking on the knob was linked to a key she needed to remember. Kevin came back to Cindy with an empty nail gun and a smile.

"That should do it," he said.

"Will it hold?"

He nodded. "We got some minutes, at least. It will slow them down for sure." Kevin dropped the nail gun, and Mark went to the lounge to sit by Bob. He was feeling unwell from his age. "Is there a way out of here other than the front door, Cindy?"

"Upstairs. We can get to the rooftop and try and go on from there."

"Any keys for the door?"

"Might need to find it." She tightly grasped her .38 revolver. It was as small as her hand and was only fired once just earlier. Will was the first kill. Ironic. She sighed. "I'll go look for the blue key now." She entered the door opposite. The locker room.

It was a small room with multiple lockers chairs and cardboard neatly organised. The lockers obviously belonged to the staff, and the boxes were all just junk, nothing important in any of them. Cindy had to organise them all. She knew that. On each side were the lockers. The one on the right with a female raccoon was hers. Apart from the assortment of junk and old files and papers, among the idle trinkets was a key with a blue keychain. The key for upstairs. Her pink mobile phone was in there too. It was ringing a tasteless pop song of the 80's The caller said it was **xXx Scotty 3.** Not the best name in the world. Unfit for the situation.

"Scott?"

"Yes Cindy, it's me," he breathed heavily. "Are you okay?"

"What's happening, Scott? Some people are trying to get inside the bar, and they bite." She slides some curtains back from a dusty window by her locker to check outside. There are people scattered outside on the streets, all running away from the same monsters from downstairs. They were all continually attacked. Pulled off the streets and eaten alive by groups of them. "Scott… What's happening out there?! They're monsters out there!"

"Damn it! I was too late. Listen, I can't explain this over the phone."

"Explain what? Scott, do you know what's going on out there?"

"I do."

"I got others with me, Scott. I need to know everything about these monsters to help us survive."

"Those monsters out there are no longer who they appear to be. They're all zombies infected with a virus, an unstable mutagen that is highly contagious." He breathed down the phone. He didn't sound tired. "Any bite or scratch and you'll turn. Just like them."

"How is this possible?"

"A virus was spread into the city's outskirts. It is contagious to a wide array of animals and mammals. Once infected, they and the virus live to infect more. They're walking infections. The basic primal instinct."

"How do we kill them?"

"Destroy the brain. They don't react to pain so be sure to aim for the head. Anywhere else won't be effective. If my calculations are correct, all of Raccoon will be contaminated in just a few days." Scott can't be right. Raccoon City's population was over a hundred thousand. If it was a few days the virus was exposed, then the infected toll must be in the high thousands by now. "You must evacuate the city by any means necessary."

"Is there any way out of the city?"

"I can't help you there. The R.P.D. should have certain procedures to help the civilians. The S.T.A.R.S. team will help you further." There was a sound of sudden silence from Scott's side of the line. "Find my brother Zaac," he continued, "He'll know what to do."

"That shouldn't be a problem; there's an officer here with me. He can take me there."

"Where's Joshua?"

"He's with my parents. I'll call them as soon as I can."

"He'll be fine if he stays with them out of town."

"Where are you?"

"Can't say. I'm near the R.P.D.; I'll meet you there," he breathed. "Stay safe honey. I love you."

"You too Scotty. Stay safe." She hung up. Her battery was still charged, but there was no signal to call her parents. She never liked being away from her son for too long, though this time she was glad he was out of town. She left the locker room and stepped to the door with the blue marking. The wooden boards were still up in the hallway, and no zombies were coming up the stairs. Kevin stepped into view. He was very calm. Mark and Bob were sat in the lounge.

"Got the keys?" Kevin asked.

"Yeah." She went to unlock the door.

"Who were you talking to in there?"

"My fiancée. He… He told me about the monsters outside, and how to kill them."

"Aim for the head. Right?"

"How'd-"

"I heard stories from S.T.A.R.S. about the Mansion Incident back at the department. Similar monsters and such." He placed his hands on his hips. "Never thought I would ever be in a situation like that, so I didn't think much of it."

"They're infectious."

"Great..." He sighed. "Hoping that wasn't true… Let's just get out of here already."

"Sure. We'll head to the rooftop, follow me."

Cindy led Kevin and Mark to the third floor where the bar keeps their stock and brews. It was mostly popular cask and barrels of ale. Racks of wine bottles were all on the right side, a wide selection of all types. Not many expensive ones. Caskets of beer and ciders were very plentiful throughout the L-shaped room. A few crates of liquors were stacked out of the way. At the far end by the yellow forklift was a shutter. The shutter to the rooftop. It was a short walk in the dim light. At least Cindy didn't have to bottle up today. Never liked it.

The roof was widely open and clear of any obstruction. It was nice to take in the cold air, though some sounds of distant cries and howls from the screaming citizens made it hard to enjoy the relaxing feeling. The groups of zombies were forming at all sides. Chain fences sealed off most of the rooftop could only walk in one direction all the way around to get to the other side.

A storeroom was there and more importantly, a catwalk that can be used to leave the bar. It was either that or a leap of faith. They all stayed together until Mark's friend, Bob, started to lag behind. He was barely able to stand from his older age. Mark sat him down and sat closely to him. Cindy and Kevin kept on going to the catwalk. They needed time alone…

Bob rested himself against a cold wall; he could barely keep his eyes open. Mark came into view. His best friend was always there for him. Bob thought it was his old age getting to him, or his health was deteriorating. Then his skin felt itchy, and his mouth felt dry with a sudden hunger. A rat bite on his leg started to act up. He was all right since then. At least he had Mark with him on this cold night to share the pain.

"How are you holding up, Bob?"

"I can't move anymore… I don't want to slow you all down."

"You're not slowing us down, Bob. We just need to keep going."

"I don't want to be someone else's burden." Bob slid out his 9mm Beretta from his hip holster. It was loaded.

"What are you doing?" Mark's eyes rolled his eyes over Bob's handgun's gleam. His finger was dangerously close to the trigger. "Bob?"

"You don't understand, Mark. I'm no different from those things down there. I can feel their hunger..."

When Mark looped it around in his head, the thought of leaving Bob was something he never considered. His eyes started to fade whiter over the original blue slowly. Bob shared more than the zombies' hunger… "No..."

"I think I was bitten by something before I got here… That's when I've been feeling..." Bob's voice began to deflate slowly. Mark feared he might be dying or worse, turning.

"You want to end it. Don't you?"

"While my conscience remains? Yeah," Bob sighed. "Rather die sitting down as an old man than walking with a group of monsters. I don't want to hurt anyone. End it… Please..."

"You can't ask me to do that, Bob."

"If you're my friend, Mark, you will do what's right."

Mark picked up Bob's handgun and stood up on his aching feet. He turned away, and after a long sigh he made up his mind. "After everything we been through, Bob, it's a shame for you to go out like this."

Bob raised his head and smiled as Mark turned back around. Their smiles practically shook hands and meet each other accordingly. Bob's face started to sag yet his smile never went anywhere. "We both made some tough decisions back in 'Nam, hadn't we? Remember our oath, Mark? If one of us start to suffer ma-"

"Make it quick," Mark interrupted and continued.

"Don't let me down, Mark."

Back then over thirty years ago in the Vietnam War, that mercy kill was a blessing on poor Matt. The city was at war with the monsters below, and the survivors were nothing less than the soldiers of war. And when there's war, there's death and destruction. Realistically, Bob was slowing them down, and he looked like he was going to turn any minute. This would be the toughest mercy kill he had ever seen. Not like he was in a hurry.

Mark shook his head and met Bob's eyes. He raised his handgun at Bob. "I'm sorry, Bob." Bob closed his eyes, waiting for that stairway to heaven. He couldn't do it. He couldn't kill his best friend. He won't. He closed his eyes. Then a bullet was fired. He squeezed the trigger and just like that Bob's head fell forward. Blood splattered on the wall behind his head. Then Bob's body fell to its side. Mark didn't even wipe away the tears forming.

"Oh… Bob..." he sobbed. Someone ran around a corner ahead past the metal railings. It was Kevin.

"What happened?" Kevin asked.

"Mercy..."

"I'm sorry… We need to move. Come on, Mark." They both left Bob's body. Mark stopped several times to glance back at his corpse. It was hard to let go of him, to wonder if he'll ever see him again. This time he won't. He had to do everything he can always to remember Bob's company.

They were all on the roof of J's Bar now. The night was horrible. It was cold, and the howls and wailing of the infected in the distance were constant. Would be the beautiful side of sombre but the hellish situation was not to be taken lightly. Cindy found a chain fence the led to the catwalk, the crooked fence her colleague regularly complained about. Kids would break it down to trespass on the private property of Jack's. This time Cindy was the one to kick it down and walk on the catwalk. She was a kid after all. A big one.

The metal catwalk was behind the fluorescent lights that illuminated the name Jack's Bar. It was amazing they were still lit, they hummed and buzzed in working order. Down below some scattered people were seen, not infected ones but actual citizens. Of course, they were fleeing the streets, fearing for their lives. The infected were in small numbers yet never looked any less threatening. They just never stopped the hunt. Then they saw a small group of R.P.D. officers setting up a police checkpoint. One had a megaphone.

"Attention everyone! Due to the riots in progress, this area will be closed off soon! Please proceed to this checkpoint immediately! If you do not leave the area in time, we cannot guarantee your safety!"

"That's our ticket outta here," Kevin said. "Come on."

The three rushed over the catwalk and passed down through the crummy apartment complex. It was a mediocre building with decent apartments, though the company that owns the complex was corrupt. Bad for business. The complex was void of life and the undead and after an elevator down and a short walk through the generic hallway they were all outside on the cold city streets. The situation was still as bad as earlier.

The police officers attempting to cover the fleeing survivors on the streets were being mauled to death, the slowest citizens were also savagely mauled by the lumbering zombies. The infected didn't even slow down. They also had a habit of coming out of the darkest corners and alleys. It was worse up front. Just outside J's Bar police cruisers were set up as barricades to funnel survivors off the streets. Kevin confirmed that the R.P.D were known to do that in worst case scenarios.

Just outside the apartment complex was another officer, the only one alive outside, the others were all torn apart some distance ahead. Kevin recognised him as the R.P.D.'s Deputy chief, Raymond Douglas. He was experienced and gruff, yet shown some civility. He was providing gunfire support from behind a police cruiser. The lone idle zombies fell hard with some potshots delivered by his Beretta M9F2. R.P.D. standard issue. Replacing the Browning HP. Kevin stood by him quickly after noticing him.

"Raymond!" Kevin called.

"Kevin? Damn son, you startled me," Ray replied. His handgun never weaved from the shuffling walkers ahead. They never attempted to advance until now. "Glad you're here. The whole city's a war zone, and I could use some extra muscle." He pulled a magazine from his hip pocket and realised it was empty and discarded it with his Beretta. He had a Spas-12 shotgun in the cruiser, so he took it with a small box of shells.

"Is there any way we can reach the station?" Kevin asked.

"Hmmm… Yes. The checkpoint outside Apple Inn. Dorian should be there. He's organising a small transport to the department."

"What are we waiting for? Let's get going then."

"You good on ammo?"

"Yeah. You?"

Ray patted down his fully-loaded shotgun with a small smile. One he never uses often enough. "Saving this puppy for a while. I'll be fine."

Kevin and Ray quickly make haste down the road, away from J's Bar and the approaching zombies. They were forming small groups around the police cruisers. Another horrible thing about zombies is that if they wanted to, they could be incredibly silent when they wanted to be, though they were too stupid to realise it was a benefit. A wooden double door was chained shut at a left turn by Ray and Kevin. They looked like they had the key to the padlock. Mark took the few seconds to pass Cindy Bob's Beretta. It was loaded with one round missing. She knew how to use it, and he appreciated that and smiled. She saw movies. Can't be harder than that.

When the four were at the wooden doors, the iron padlock dropped. "I'll cover the rear," Ray said. "You three need to get into the canal and pass through the sewer."

Kevin nodded in agreement. "What about you?" he asked.

"My job is to get you to safety."

"I know where to go."

"Good. Your street smarts are something to behold."

Time was ticking very early in the night. A handful of minutes just after 9 pm. The weather was still cold with no signs of rain happening anytime soon. Past the second set of wooden doors that were far easier to open with a firm kick over the lock, they just entered a slope along a canal. Just ahead was a left turn that will head straight to the checkpoint, that's where Apple Inn was. Just around a corner. A tanker. A tanker truck was unaccounted for. It was rammed over the turn into a wall ahead. It was blocking the way.

A horde of zombies tore down the wooden birch doors with their limbs and claws and tailed the four survivors. Roughly a dozen was shuffling quicker in the front after the slowest one of the group. That one being Ray who tried to slow them down for the others to get away. They needed to get to the checkpoint at all costs. They were all safely away from Ray and the zombies at the tanker. Ray's shotgun was peppering them well with reckless abandon. Then he paused and glanced at the tanker.

A fuel tank. The truck was carrying a fuel tank. That could completely halt the zombies' advances. Then he remembered his iron flip lighter in his rear trouser pocket. He paused again to take it out then it was too late to pause again to pass it on. A zombie lunged at him. A skinny one in a hideous blue jumper. They wrestled on the ground. "Kevin!" he called loudly, "The fuel tank! Light it!" He chucked his grey lighter at Kevin's general direction, and he caught while in the air. He had no more strength to fend off the zombie on top of him. It was all donated into his right throwing arm.

"Ray!"

Kevin tried to make a small dash to Ray, but it was too late. Three more zombies were already approaching and piling on him while he still struggled. His cries slowly faded into gurgling gasps then they fell silent. Kevin cried and fired his .45 automatic at Ray's attackers. Bullets whistled past and over him but failed to deter the said attackers. Ray was already dead. Kevin sagged and ejected his handgun's magazine and let it drop.

When Cindy pulled him back, he shed some tears in his eye. He was a good boss. Without anything else on his mind, Kevin honoured his wish and spun the valve at the end of the truck's tank and poured pure gasoline over the floor. Everyone stood aside as the gas flow over the stone floor. It coated all the zombies behind them. The gas tank in a guilty pleasurable way. Cindy protested on the smell. A small retreat was in order before ignition.

The unfortunate three stood at the tip of the ledge over the canal. The one that led to a small canal that ran to a small sewer. "For Raymond," Kevin whispered. He sparked the flip lighter on the second spark and heaved it at the zombies.

The lighter's flame instantly engulfed the first zombie it touched. Within seconds the entire crowd was coated in the ferocious fire as it burned them all. The fire was raging, and in seconds their advance slowed down. Their moans faded into bloody gurgles and grumbles. The raging fire was unkempt as it spread everywhere the gasoline smeared over.

The ground and the way they came was a raging path of hell. Then the zombies fell to their knees. Even if they didn't register pain in any form, the tissue damage from the burns was diabolical. The collapse under their weight and fell hard. Then the fire trailed dangerously trailed its way up the small hill towards the tanker.

The fire spread too fast! Flames surrounded the tanker's fuel tank and were fit to erupt! Getting red hot too quickly. It went off it would wipe everyone on the ledge and anyone in the vicinity. There was another option, though. The odourless canal was only a six-foot drop, and it was reasonably deep. Kevin demanded everyone to jump before the tanker went off, that was obvious to them, though, he wasn't the first one in the murky water. They all dropped in.


	7. Transit

The fuel tanker exploded. Its fiery inferno burned the air and tore through the eardrums of anyone above the surface. In unison, all three of them gasped for air and kept themselves afloat. They were swimming in the stale murky water next to a patch of burning fire. Their eardrums were ringing, but still grateful to be alive. A small tunnel above the water level was behind them; it was pitch black inside. Also very silent as only the gentle howls of the which whistled through. It was small. However, everyone had to crouch and hobble through. Mark could barely fit; he had to crawl on his hands and knees.

Apart from the rotten odour of decay and staleness, the sewers weren't the sewage type. Not the one for local waste. That was the best part of the day, not walking around ankle deep in human waste. The walls of the rotten tunnel after the small drop was layered with lines of growing moss and muck.

Vermin was scuttling around closely to their feet, but it was too dark to see them, bright enough to not bump into anything. There was only natural light. Around a left turn, there was a ladder to the surface, and a natural light gazed upon it like an angel. All it needed was a little heavenly choir. There was no more to be traversed down below, iron bars from top to bottom halted their advance. It could've been a way, but that was never meant to be.

Kevin pushed away the manhole cover and ascended onto the surface first. The Apple Inn Hotel was a marvel of Raccoon City, a popular attraction for tourists and citizens alike. Now it's a barren eyesore with nothing of value. The building was four stories of death and emptiness. Kevin inspected the glass double doors to be barricaded from the inside. No one was getting in or out.

A makeshift safe area on the road outside was comprised of a small flat road with wrecked cars forming a semicircle. The rest of the road beyond that was blocked off with rubble. There were three other people there too, civilians and a bald police officer. The checkpoint was kept in check by the R.P.D. That would be the first…

Up close the bald policeman had a thick black moustache. He and Kevin took a moment to shake hands and check out the area. Apparently, nothing has been happening around the checkpoint recently. No recent arrivals or hostiles. The streets were battered and also empty of life. A railing to the left was too high to vault, and a door to the right into a small construction site was boarded up. A blue SWAT van was fully operational in the middle of the road. It wasn't strong enough to plough through everything, but it could still drive on the road. The other direction. Cindy took a look through the rear window. There were some weapons inside the back. A shotgun and a handgun were resting on a weapon rack. Ammo was seen on the table next to the weapon rack.

"This will certainly help," Cindy murmured. Mark stepped behind Cindy and looked over her shoulder.

Kevin stepped into view with the policeman close by. They knew each other. "Dorian set up this checkpoint yesterday. So far only these two arrived." Kevin pointed to another two other survivors by the left railing. One wore an ugly blue sweater and the other was wearing a grey shirt. He was hurt and sat down.

Dorian had a deep Texan voice. "I was hoping to escort survivors to the R.P.D. with this checkpoint here," he said. "Though with the situation on the Main Street, we may have to rendezvous with Harry, Elliot and Eric and wait for extraction."

Kevin glanced at Dorian. "What's going on with the Main Street? They're still having trouble keeping it in check?"

"The infected population increased rapidly over the last few hours over there." Dorian took a glance and met Kevin's eyes with his. "They're setting up some explosives to clear the road." He stopped by the driver's side of the van.

"Are we ready to leave?" Cindy asked.

"I need to give it some time."

"Until when?"

"Soon… Maybe some more people will show up. This will be the last trip from this checkpoint, and I want it to be a good one. You three look like you could use a rest anyway."

"Sure." Kevin took a small walk with Cindy and Mark to sit with the other two survivors. They just glared and said nothing. The injured one looked like he was ready to die and the other just looked like he couldn't be bothered anymore.

"What did he say?" Cindy asked again. Slumping down on the cold floor with her legs crossed.

"We'll make a stop to the Main Street soon; then we'll hopefully get escorted to the Police Department."

"Hopefully?"

"I'm not feeling so lucky," Kevin muttered. He shook his head and leant against a stone archway by the railing.

"Neither am I. This is gonna be a long day..." Cindy placed her head in the palm of her hands.

Dorian took out a megaphone from the passenger seat of the van and licked his lips. "This is the Raccoon police department!" he announced loudly through his megaphone. The sounds of his voice stretched far and wide. Who would hear it outside the vicinity was the question. Not as many as you'd think. "Please try to stay calm!" A vehicle is standing by for evacuation! We need everyone here as quickly as possible!"

Dorian allowed his pleas to be digested by everyone's ears before he decided to get the SWAT van ready to move. The loud message sank in well enough for everyone to hear. There was only six of them in total. No one showed up then no one will show up now. It was all just a last fruitless attempt.

It took only five minutes to realise that no one was going to show up, they were just working with a skeleton crew. No new arrivals. The situation was that bad. The five made their way to Dorian and waited for his authorisation to make a transit to the main street. All the way to the haven if possible. The R.P.D. was the only safe place to stay until good luck strikes. They were all ready to leave the checkpoint, and Dorian, unfortunately, knew it. He stowed everyone in the back of the van and took off without any delay.

Once everyone boarded the van, Dorian manned the wheel and kept to the road. The road ahead was destroyed with rubble and vehicular wrecks. Now and then a bumpy ride along the side streets was the only way forward. Any way to get to the rendezvous was a priority; the department was the best solution, only it wasn't that easy. Zombies weren't the only things blocking and obstructing the evacuation. Sometimes it was blue roadblocks.

"The highway is too dangerous. We're taking the side streets..." Dorian said and came to a halt at a blue R.P.D. barricade. It blocked the road and was a huge hassle. So huge it was too much trouble than it's worth. Dorian exclaimed loudly out of frustration. "Damn it! Another barricade?" Dorian leant and gazed at the people in the back of the van. All five of them. "There are too many roadblocks. I'm afraid you may have to get out and continue on foot."

"For fuck's sake!" one of the survivors exclaimed with disgust.

"That's fine, Dorian," Kevin said, "I'll scout the area."

"I'm sorry for only taking you halfway, Kev. If there is no other option, I'll do my best to get to the department only as a last resort, though."

The survivor in the blue jumper kicked the van's rear doors open with a mighty boot and growled to the incompetence of the local police. "How irresponsible they are! How dare they leave us in a place like this?! They told us to walk the rest of the way?! It's as if they were telling us to die! I'll die my own way. Not like this. Not gonna move and give them the chance."

Kevin stepped out the van and scanned the surrounding area. It was from a local residential area. The backlot of several apartment complexes. Most doors and windows were boarded up, and the only shelter from the light drizzle of rain was the SWAT van and under a small building. One suspended by iron girders & rebars. The van sat dead in the middle of the road with strong blue R.P.D. barricades firmly placed to cease road movements.

The road ahead looked like it was ready to collapse and cave in, though that was the last resort. It might just lead to the Police Department but only if the plan to rig the Main Street with explosives fails. Harry, Eric and Elliot were there to bring the massive zombie horde there to a standstill if they failed in any way all hell would break loose. Either way, they all needed to reach the department. If the detonation plan was a factor, someone has to finish it. Hopefully, there won't be any foul-ups.

Kevin says the other two unimportant survivors sought shelter under a small platform. The injured one slumped on the wet floor while the other one in the sweater was still complaining like a critic. "You're not exactly helping sir," Kevin said politely. "Maybe it's for the best you stay here."

"Whatever. Me and my bud are going to stay here and wait for you louts to get us to the haven we heard about."

Kevin had to fight his urge to punch the arrogant man in the face, break an arm or two but he was better than that and shrugged off the criticism. "The R.P.D. knows what they're doing, sir."

Cindy stepped out the van and brushed her blonde hair. It really needed a wash. Mark stepped out behind her, and she sighed. "How you holding up?" he asked.

Cindy placed her head in her cupped hands. "This day has been just awful. Just completely awful."

"I hear you. Those creatures of the night is a terrible omen on this city. I've never seen anything like this before, and I fought in 'Nam."

Cindy straightened her back and wiped her tired eyes. She rested her hand on her chest and tried to smile. She just couldn't, considering the recent chaos. "My fiancée said these zombies were citizens infected with a virus that leaked into the city. If we don't evacuate soon, the whole town will be full of these monsters."

"Not feeling lucky, are you?"

"I'm feeling terrified." Mark reached into the rear of the van and took hold of the shotgun inside. It was a 12 gauge Spas-12 shotgun. Pump-action. A box of ammo had plenty of cartridges. He placed his favourite handgun back in his holster and took a firm hold of the shotgun. Kevin stepped over by her and Mark. He wasn't very amused.

"Unless you're staying I suggest you follow me," Kevin said. "We're checking out the Main Street."

"Why? What's going on here?"

"Barricades are getting in the way of our transit. If there's no other way through the Main Street, we'll come back and see what we can do."

The SWAT van was stopped by a small barricade. Beyond that, in the distance, the moans of infected was heard wailing away. The road they were on led straight to the Main Street, they joined. Though a small walk was to reach it first, just for the sake of observation. After the three had passed the van, there was a small path of stairs between apartment complexes. Both were long since abandoned and vacant. The old remains of a residential area. The doors and windows were boarded up, and even if they weren't, there was no one inside. A path to the footbridge overseeing the Main Street was in plain sight.

Behind Mayor Michael Warren's hideous bust was the Main Street, they watched over the street with a picture-worthy view. The bridge wasn't far off the ground, but it was enough to fit the rows of vacant stores either side of the street well into view. That wasn't the worst part. They all instantly regretted taking in sight because of one simple factor. The massive horde of zombies, only it was more of an army. The amounts of infected were demoralising.

Easily over a thousand strong in numbers, the zombie army was milling around aimlessly, spilling off the streets and onto the pavements. It was enough to strike fear in the steadiest of veterans with the minimalist of efforts. In unison, the fear was instant as they stood agape with little hope and enthusiasm to march on. The smell of raging fires and body odour tore at the sense of smell.

"Oh God..." Kevin muttered, turning his eyes down.

"That smell… That's an odour I don't want to experience again," Mark murmured. "The smell of death and decay."

"No, no, it can't be. So many of them."

The sight was overwhelming in sight, stench and decay. All of that was enough to stun a horse. Despite the strength in numbers, the horde hasn't yet claimed the city high street as their own. Some shuffled around just under the bridge, and almost the entirety of the horde stayed back by a collapsed barricade. Beyond that were raging fires, so powerful it burned the sky an unhealthy mix of orange and yellow. The sky was burning, and the air was smoking. A small crowd of zombies crawled over each other in a single small area. They were fighting over something.

There were the choices of fight or flight. Kevin knew three of his colleagues were setting up explosives at the barricade up front, though, they were nowhere to be seen. Cindy and Mark stayed near the stairs, and Kevin took a quick jog to the horde. Someone under the bridge stopped him.

"They're dead Kev," the man said. He was a police officer, in plain glasses with short ginger hair. Kevin thought of him as a coward. Still an honest guy at that. He was hurt, holding in his gut and slouched under his weight. "They're all dead."

"Harry? You're not talking about-"

"Eric and Elliot?" Harry sighed. "Yes. They're both dead."

"They never set the explosives?"

"I saw the detonator next to Eric's body."

"Set up or not, the horde needs to be culled. Dorian can't get past the barricades and even if he decides to try there's no way around this horde." A lumbering zombie shuffled behind Kevin; it was dangerously close. Then Mark killed it with a quick blast to the head. After a short cheer, it was all okay. The other shufflers minded their own business. "If we try to get around them on foot there's no telling if they'll follow us to the R.P.D. Or even increase in numbers. That's if we can get around."

"Captain Wesker ordered us to cull the horde. He asked for a convoy of reinforcements."

"Here?"

"Yes..."

"If they see the horde is still alive they'll abandon us! One look at that shit and they're gone."

"The explosives are your best bet, Kev. Otherwise, you'll have to get back to Dorian and take another route to the department."

"If I remember anything the sergeants said, it's a fact the convoy is important to their cause. We NEED reinforcements. Leaving everything the way it is now is not an option."

Cindy stepped over to Kevin and Harry with Mark behind her. He had his Beretta handgun handy in his big hand. "What's going on here?" Cindy asked.

"This street is our only way out of here."

A quick look at the Main Street again and it was still as bad as it was from the bridge. The other way under the bridge was barricaded, and the only way forward was just suicide. They couldn't run away, though. Hellfire combusted and engulfed the street behind them ahead; it wasn't as bad just looked worse. The four were safe under the bridge. Too far away for the zombies to step forward. Too stupid above all.

"I hate this job sometimes..." Kevin admitted.

"What are we going to do Kevin?" Mark's palms were getting sweaty, and his trigger finger was itching up. It felt like Vietnam all over again.

Kevin drew out his .45 automatic from his hip holster and checked the loaded rounds. He had two left before he topped them up with single rounds back up to seven. "The R.P.D. needed to clear the Main Street to cull a massive horde and make way to a safe transit. Unless someone finds the detonator, we're fucked."

"Why?"

"An R.P.D. convoy is coming this way and if they do they'll pick all of us up and head to the Department. That's wasn't the original plan, but with all the barricades it's the only way we're getting to safety. If we don't clear the zombies, they'll avoid the entire street and find another way around. Not only they'll miss us all and leave us to die they might get into bigger trouble. We need to keep as many people alive as possible if we're gonna make it through this. The convoy is our only chance."

"Kill the zombies, survive and get to safety. Or fail and possibly die."

"The R.P.D. convoy will give us the power the sergeants need for their plans. It will give us the safe escort to the department since that's their location. The R.P.D. isn't too lucky, I'm afraid," Kevin admitted. "Everything fell on Eric and Elliot and if we don't finish what they started no one will."

"There wasn't many of us, to begin with," Harry added."

"How are we gonna do this then?" Cindy asked. She waved her arms, and no one made any wild suggestions. Kevin kicked the dirt under his boots.

"For a start, I'll head back to Dorian and try and get things moving," Harry murmured. "Can't really help much after they killed Eric and Elliot."

"I can't ask everyone to help out-"

"I didn't come this far to sit this one out guys."

"You're not telling an old man to sit down and let you do this without him. Are you Kevin?"

"No, of course not, Mark."

"How we doing this then?"

"I'm thinking we take up each side of the street and one goes down the middle to reach the detonator," Kevin said. "That one should be Cindy."

"Who me?"

"He's got a point. We can keep them at bay while you find the detonator," Mark added. "You're younger and possibly fitter, so it'll be easier for you than Kevin and me. We have more combat experience too."

"I'd feel much better if we clear a path first."

Kevin shrugged. "Whatever works. Aim for the head if you can," he said. "Let's go."

"And don't let them bite you," Cindy added.

"That too."


	8. Rolling by the Main Street

Kevin's handgun roared, again and again. Zombies stumbled and fell, and he deftly reloaded. He quickly darted to the right side of the road and made for the pavement there and fired his .45 automatic with wicked accuracy. The three zombies under the lamppost by the chain link fence didn't even see their second death coming; they stumbled and fell too. He reloaded while Mark was already on the opposite side of the road next to an underground passage. The way to the subway was boarded up.

Mark already gunned down several zombies with some quick shells. The best part about shotguns was the power and the spread. Any zombie that didn't get their flesh and bones shredded by metal pellets, their bodies collapsed from the sheer force alone. They never got back up. Mark stepped over them with confidence, crushing their heads into red slush with his heavy weight.

A zombie shuffled its weight and charged at Cindy. She had Bob's handgun in her hands and took her aim for the zombie's face. The zombie was on fire, and the flesh was charred. She fired twice, and both rounds struck the zombie's chest, and it stumbled, but it wasn't deterred. It stepped to her right. It slumped on her without any strength, her hands clasped around its throat.

She pushed with all her strength, keeping those snapping jaws away. She fired again. The proximity of the discharged round shattered her eardrums, but the round pierced through the zombie's chin and exploded the roof of its head. Mark looked her way, and she met his eyes with hers. He smiled and nodded. She moved on closer to the middle of the road.

Everyone had their fight in their sections of the road, Cindy's top priority was the detonator in the middle of the road. There were five zombies hobbling around it. Unaware. Disturbed. Hungry. Three of them were burning up in flames; their charred skin was an unhealthy shade of dark purple. The other two were the usual type, tatty, bloody clothes, expressionless faces and shuffled tunelessly.

One of them was larger than the other four, larger than Mark too. A charred zombie noticed Cindy above all else and scurried over to her, and she shot a round spiralling for its face. It hit the ground and tried to get back up, but the other zombies trampled over it. They weren't too bright.

One charred zombie got past Cindy and charged at Kevin. Cindy cursed and shot at the runner, two of the three shots missed and the third clipped its shoulder. The zombie was off balance as it made contact with Kevin and he twisted his body and the zombie was thrown over his shoulder. He thoroughly executed the puzzled zombie then moved on the other zombie approaching behind him. He threw pistol whips it the face to no effect then it pinned him against the chain link fence. Cindy had three more zombies on her tail, including the larger one. The last charred zombie went for her first with the other two at its back and call.

The charred zombie took four rounds to the head and chest to stop it dead; it was noticeably more resilient than the greyer toned usual zombies. The plain zombie that trampled over the charred one was a thin-boned female in rags. One shot to the forehead was enough for her. Then the big zombie rushed her. It was as tall and wide as Mark with plenty of strength to match. It wrapped its arms around her before she could fire. She was taken off her feet, and its sharp teeth were coming in fast on her right shoulder. She raised her arms sharply and loosened its hold on her, and dropped to the ground. It moaned something pitiful, and she wedged her shoulder into its gut, pushing her weight into it as hard as she could.

The fat zombie had some weight behind it all; it still hobbled back a few steps. Apart from a sore neck and shoulders, Cindy took out her handgun and fired her last three rounds. They all struck the zombie's head and neck but wasn't enough to kill it; there was too much fat on those bones. It was losing its balance, however, so she launched her empty handgun at it. With all her might, the handle struck the zombie's nose, and it fell, not dead, just sprawled over the cold floor. Cindy pulled out her .38 six-shooter, ready to finish the meatbag. Then it went bad.

A few steps behind the detonator was an uncommon lone zombie that stood out over the horde. The skin was a lush tone of crimson-red, the fingernails had claws, almost like talons. The eyes were an empty pasty white, and the body was quite toned, compared to the average zombie. It was moving closer to Cindy, locked sights on her. It cleared a path and swatted every zombie in the way; some were decapitated, others were slashed into ribbons from a single swipe, it had a temper. When it stepped behind the fat zombie that somehow got up without anyone noticing, it was decapitated like the few before. Blood from the stump sprayed at Cindy. This red zombie wore a uniform from J's Bar. Like Will's…

"Will…?" Cindy fired her revolver five times before it clicked empty. The .38 calibre rounds didn't even budge him, despite all landing on his chest.

Will swung his right claw at Cindy and missed, then his left one straight after, that one missed too. Her instinct to duck was somewhat extraordinary. Kevin called for her to duck again to give him a line of sight, then he gave her some support. Two .45acp round whistled through the air and struck Will's head, he growled and almost tripped over his feet, though he was never disturbed. Kevin cursed and deftly reloaded his handgun. He had Will's undivided attention,

"Cindy, the detonator!" he ordered. With a nod, she pushed herself off her feet and ran for the detonator. It was somewhere under a small pile of bodies, the ones that stood in Will's wake. Will moved on fast for Kevin and ran. "Fuck..."

Will swung his left claw first, just missing his nose, then he swung his right claw, grazed across his chest armour plates and nearly taking off his right hand. He grabbed Kevin by the shoulders and went in to bite at his face. His pistol bashed into Will's face and found his nose. His head rocked back, and his mouth hung open, and his grip on Kevin was lost. With his full magazine, Kevin fired every round he had. Hard to see how many of the seven shots landed on their mark, with Will's constant twitching and jerking of his body, he staggered back and moved closer. Kevin was out of bullets.

A right hook struck the barrel of Kevin's .45 auto and threw it across the ground, he unsheathed his combat knife from his belt, ready for the next swing. Will's predictable left swing missed and swiped the air over Kevin's stomach, an area that wasn't armoured. On the counterattack, Kevin slashed his knife across Will's face and gouged it deeper into his cheek on the recovery. Will appeared to lost his focus and left him reeling back further away. Kevin smiled and won the first round, at the cost of dispensing all his ammo.

Will snarled and suddenly took off, sprinting in another direction, after Cindy. He sprinted after her. "Cindy, look out!" Kevin called.

Cindy was still looking, searching for the detonator that was hidden among a pile of fresh corpses. Up close the stench could knock out a horse, but she had to find it, find the small metal thing that goes boom. Find boom box and go home. It was that simple. Then there was a loud grumbling and heavy footsteps. William was sprinting after her.

She desperately picked up her pace to find the detonator, but she was panicking under the torment and William already had her in his grasp. They both went careening over and under each other and stopped rolling when they came closer to the raging inferno. A thick wall of zombies was still held back from a small metal barricade. All was burning around them; the heat was immense.

Will held Cindy's hands to the floor and pinned her with his weight, he was stronger than usual. Drool seeped off his sharp fangs, and his growling sounded of a rabid animal. Will raised his claw and sat back to summon the extra strength to claw her face off. She covered her face and screamed.

Out of earshot, another bullet whistled over her head; a shot had struck Will's right shoulder. It threw some of his weight back and left him reeling. Then her arm retracted, and three quicker shots spiralled past her face, all struck Will's chest. The quick succession rolled him off her. She looked at the direction of her saviour.

Cindy smiled. "Zaac...?"

"I hate crimson heads," Zaac exclaimed loudly enough for her to hear.

Zaac wore a black S.T.A.R.S. kevlar jacket and a pair of dark jeans. He tugged his shoulder and arranged his assault rifle's scope for a closer ranged approach. He fired rapidly at every zombie nearby. The two harassing Kevin to the right and the three pushing Mark back on the left. They were both handling well, although they were completely out of ammo.

Zaac's rifle was a dark police issue 7.62mm FN FAL, a semiautomatic one at that. Each round wielded so much power and tore the frail zombies apart, limbs were blasted off with accurate precision, and holes were made in their torso cavities. The rounds were thunderous too, alerted all the zombies in the vicinity to him, yet he never cared. They were torn apart one by one, tearing chunks of their shambling bodies.

With a quick breath of relief, Cindy felt serene enough to crawl back to the detonator. It was still hidden under some bodies. Will clutched her legs and pulled her closer to him and snarled. His tattered clothes were smeared with his dark red blood, pieces of his flesh were punctured with holes. He was about to gnaw on her face, and she couldn't do anything about it. Then she was about to scream, and Will's head was no more. She sent another mighty boot to his gut, and his limp body was thrown off her. Kevin stepped closer to her and the bodies beneath her with his .45 automatic smoking in his hand. His last ever round. Zaac was by Mark, clearing any other stragglers. They were both fine.

"That's two you owe me, Cindy," Kevin smiled. The detonator was just by his feet. He kicked it over to Cindy. She had to lunge over to it; it was just out of her reach. She did so and sprawled back up on her feet. Safe and sound.

"If I can just end this nightmare," she breathed, "it'll all be soon."

The detonator was a twist type of handle. Five-second delay a large fiery explosion was imminent. Zaac grouped Cindy, Mark and Kevin into the back of the main street before detonation. And when it did, there was a thundering explosion a mile down the road. Then another even closer. And another much closer. A chain reaction of explosions filled the air with smoky napalm. It incinerated the air and consumed all the zombies in the vicinity. The ones too close were turned to ash, and the ones afar were charred a deep black. The buildings close by on the opposite sides of the road didn't stand a chance, they were destroyed.

Piles of rubble and burnt zombies were all that was left behind. The road ahead was shining a bright yellow from the burning fires. The first taste of this hellish nightmare had a sour aftertaste. Another bitter taste Zaac didn't relish at all. He approached the burning fires the detonator left behind and gazed at the skies above. Smoke reached far and wide across the dead black sky. His shoulders felt heavy. He was distraught. Lights trekked under their feet, and a blue SWAT van pulled up beside them from under the bridge. It was Dorian's.

In the time just seven minutes past twelve in the morning the R.P.D. started to flood the Main Street, making sure all the dead bodies were dead with some added members for a cleanup crew. Dorian and Harry were there with the other two survivors that stayed behind. The cowards. Mark boarded Dorian's van with the two men, and Cindy sat at the edge of the door, wrapped in a toasty blanket. She saw Kevin bringing Captain Wesker up to speed. Zaac's head fell into his hand and his back arched. He heard the bad news of losing several R.P.D. officers in the last few hours. She heard through her fiancée that Zaac cared for his colleagues and fellow officers; it's what kept him going this far. Just more salt on the wound.

Thirty or so officers in light blue shirts walked by quickly and with barricades. Some were on their radios, and others were arming themselves for something big. She heard Johnson's Nation mentioned very often. They all addressed the situation to the fullest. Cindy got to thinking about what happened in the closing of the Main Street, then earlier that day. She started the day with cleaning tables and bottling up Jack's Bar for the day, and now it ended with the bar abandoned and her killing her closest friend that worked there.

It was supposed to be a good day, just working a slow evening with her friend. Then this all happened… She put her friend out of his misery twice and detonated a huge ass bomb. Without all the horrible deaths and destruction and constant horrors, this Monday wasn't uneventful at all. That's all she ever wanted. That and her family to be safe, to hold her son and fiancée. Have him keep her safe until it blows over.

Zaac and Kevin stepped over to Cindy while she got comfortable in the blanket. Zaac had fresh blood and dirt over his face, and his auburn hair was messy. His black kevlar vest was fading from the wear. The name Cpt. Z. WESKER was on his nametag. Zaac never liked talking about his homicidal father much since the Mansion Incident, so he scrubbed out the A and placed a Z for Zachary. The mood wasn't great, unfortunately.

"Zaac..." Cindy finally said. She never smiled this time.

"Cindy… Officer Ryman told me everything about what happened here." He sighed. "Lost a lot of good men today. Sean, Ray, Elliott, Guy, Lewis… Eric. It will never end."

Kevin glanced at Zaac. "What will happen now, Captain?"

"Dorian still has his job to do. He'll get you guys to the department. Right now, though, for me, it looks like it's gonna be a long day bringing people into safety." His eyes met Kevin's. "Might need to force people out of their homes. We need every survivor we can muster to safeguard a military evacuation."

"Will they do that?"

"They have to… Otherwise, it's back to plan B."

"The one where the sergeants split up?."

"That's classified information," Zaac scowled. He looked away. "One way or another I'll get these people out of the city, or die trying." Cindy didn't like the sound of that. Sounded too true. "The department is big enough for a few thousand people, and the military can't ignore that. I have Sergeants Branagh and Parker securing the safe zone. Carlsen and I are doing everything we can to keep things under control on the streets in the meantime."

"Either way, it's good to see you, sir," Kevin said. He saluted quickly without drawing any attention. He had a lot of respect for S.T.A.R.S. He was a reject.

"I owe you a favour today, Ryman, you did a good job, and got things done where others failed. I just wish we didn't lose our Deputy Chief. Now I have to answer to Irons, and I loathe that fatass. Ray had balls of steel talking to that miserable oaf."

"He wanted us to go on," Cindy added. "If it wasn't-" Zaac waved his hand. She held her tongue.

Zaac sighed. "Ryman, you and Dorian take the van back to the department. Marvin would want to see you."

"Yes, sir."

"And clear that damn party crap from the west office. I don't think that Leon Kennedy is coming. Rookie's probably dead by now." Zaac adjusted his focus on Cindy, and Kevin quickly went away. "Cindy, any word from Scott?"

"He'll arrive at the Police Department soon. I hope..."

"How's your son?"

"He's safe."

"Good."

"How's Claire?"

"She's still away for the semester. It's strange. I haven't been able to call her in months now, almost a year since we seen each other. I hope everything's okay."

"Why wouldn't it?"

"Dunno. Our phones are garbage, and we haven't spoken since last Christmas. Oh, God, what if there's somebody else..."

Cindy waved her hands and scoffed childishly. "You worry too much."

"I guess I do." He chuckled badly. "Ironic, isn't it? We're all forsaken with this terrible plague, and I'm worrying too much. I'm a captain for fuck's sake. Anyway, you guys take it easy. We'll figure a way out of this. The night may be dark now, but it won't last forever. It'll be morning soon."

"What's plan B?"

Zaac sighed. "That's classified. Since you're my only sister… I'll tell you. There's no doubt the R.P.D. are evicting people from their homes, but if the military fails for whatever reason, the sergeants agreed to my plan if things go wrong. That plan involves two groups of officers, one to fortify the department as a stronghold and the other to force people from their homes."

"Does any of that involve Johnson's Bank?"

"Only because it's a popular precinct of the city and an easy one to bottleneck the infected if necessary. It's why I asked for this convoy of reinforcements. If I can just live long enough to see a few thousand people surviving in the department, I'll… "He stammered. "I do what I can to get some helicopters to get them out or something… Hell, I'll fly them out myself if I have to." He scratched his hand. "It's the last resort. The military should be contacting me soon, so it's up to them. Stay safe Cindy. If you find Scott tell him...I'm sorry. He'll understand." He strayed off and walked away in the opposite direction. He was throwing his arms about and barking orders.

Kevin came back alone. Sweating a little down his cheeks. "You getting chummy with the captain there, Cindy?" he mocked.

"He's my future brother-in-law."

"Damn. Who's sleeping with who?"

"Not one to mind your business, are you Kev?"

"Asking out of curiosity."

"Me and his sister..."

Mark reared his head into view with a modest smile from the back of Dorian's van. Kevin blushed. "What?"

Cindy burst out into laughter. "I kid. I kid. Brother, I'm dating his brother."

"I was gonna say. Fucking hell." Kevin closed the rear doors of the van and sat down. Cindy turned her body and stayed snug in the blanket. Mark was staring at the floor.

"If I'm sleeping with anything, it's in the closest bed I find, I'm freaking tired." She yawned. It was cute. She freed her dirty blonde hair; ponytails were overrated. She stayed sitting on the floor, fighting to stay awake.

"If I'm sleeping with anything, it's in bed; I'm freaking tired." She yawned. She undone her dirty blonde hair, ponytails were overrated.

Dorian's blue van roared to life and deftly sped up down the street. The other side, crushing the zombie corpses underneath. Towards the department, the buildings on both sides were all destroyed, and so were all the zombies in the way. The department wasn't far. Just over a few minutes drive, less than a kilometre up on Ennerdale Street. A sharp left turn and they were outside another pub; this one was owned by a ruthless chain that tried to buy Jack's Bar. It was Greene something. Like J's Bar, it saw better days and was void of all life. Fresh bodies were seen outside. Yeah, the same problem J's had.

Dorian made a quick call on the R.P.D. radio to open the front gates of the precinct. They made a full loop around the department and found there was no other way inside, the rear was boarded up and apparently was an escape route and the gate still had someone standing by. There were no zombies in eyesight, then again it was so dark nothing was in sight. The blue van backed into the front gate and let everybody out, Dorian stayed where he was and drove off. Didn't even stay for a thank you, he just went back the way he came. Inside the bronze gates, the brown walls of the Department stood proudly in the light drizzle of rain. Plenty of officers in various uniforms and divisions were seen keeping everyone calm and warm.

Inside the main hall, most survivors were sleeping on the floors in their clothes; some had blankets. The officers were still awake and walked about, they offered Cindy, Mark and the other two men a blanket and walked them to the lobby to the east, then through the empty east office. The officers used this room as a base of operations as the west side was for a party of some sort and there was no time to clean it. Kevin wasn't present. A balding officer in his thirties walked the four further away and into a hall and down underground. Towards the underground garage. The R.P.D. needed to make room for at least a few thousand people. The officer left them in the dank underground parking garage.

Most of the parking space was parked with R.P.D. cruisers and SWAT vans; all weren't functional. Blood splatters coated most of them, inside and out. Cindy sat in the only corner in the far back where it wasn't dripping wet and wrapped herself in the same blanket she held onto. Mark wandered off on his accord; he had things on his mind, she could tell. The other two guys were gone, no one heard them leave. Probably going to complain somewhere else. Only the faintest drips were dropping from the cracks in the ceiling could be heard over the cold wind. Cindy was warm, and Mark was a burly man. The cold didn't bother them anyway. They were safe now.

CINDY LENNOX (MONOLOGUE)

Who could ever imagine such catastrophe like this could happen this day and age. With all the tragedies, death and mayhem surrounding us, I felt insignificant… but it's different now; I can see everything clearer. I shouldn't be dealing with these problems; I'm just not ready for those sort of things. Ready or not, though, it's happening… the world is finally showing its true colours. Selfish corporations, bad men in suits and corruption. The types of evil that control everything. I will do everything I can to survive, I'm scared, but I need to keep going. What else can I do? In the end, people like me have things worth fighting for. Me? I'm fighting for family.

KEVIN RYMAN (MONOLOGUE)

Everything started to go wrong in every possible way since day one when things weren't so normal. Things have been going wrong for a while now; no one realised that until now. Dead people wander the city streets in search for the living. When that becomes normal and a part of our way of life we'll all know it's time just to give up. Face reality and give up or pick up and go. There's no in between. They don't teach you that stuff in the police academy, which comes with experience. The experience I don't want to relish.

MARK WILKINS (MONOLOGUE)

This was just a horrible situation from the very start. I've seen plenty of combat in my service years, and this was one scenario I could've done without. In the thick of battle, murder and chaos are always a constant threat of any battlefield. The old saying goes, "War doesn't determine who is right, only who is left." That was something that stayed true throughout the years of my civilian days. Fight to win. That's all I can think of now and back when I was a younger man on the losing side of the conflict. I don't think I'll survive this time, back then I was one of the lucky ones.

CAPTAIN ZACHARY WESKER (MONOLOGUE)

I was put on this planet for one thing, to protect and serve. I didn't ask for this. I want it to be over, but some people are still counting on me. There are still survivors out here, survivors that need protecting. And Claire… I miss Claire. The Mansion Incident made me realise the true power of these big corporations, and the lengths they'll go to to make a profit. Raccoon City needed a hero, and I thought I could be that hero, but those dreams died when I had to take this accursed role of captain. That's when the nightmares began. Truthfully, I don't know what I'm doing anymore, I can't lead all of this.

All I want is to have my mother brush my hair and tell me about how everything will be okay, to hear her voice again, to memorise each word. I never saw many people die when I was a rookie but ever since the dead started to walk and the living began to fall, my will to go on died with them, every time. Death and famine is a constant sight. Seeing my city ravaged by Umbrella's gruesome experiments, I want nothing more than REVENGE. Even if it takes the next eight years, I will make Lord Spencer's death slow and terrible.


	9. Lovers unite

Mid-evening on Friday the 28th, a good few days of safety behind the R.P.D. walls, Cindy was alone down below the Department, in the dank parking garage to be in fact. Hours and hours passed that stretched into long days and Cindy was still sat in a dirty corner by a broken shutter. The garage was thriving with civilians recently the day before, and after some bad news came by all of a sudden on Wednesday, most of all the R.P.D. officers just went off. Then there were rumours of a great massacre outside that Johnson National, that was the bad news. It couldn't be true.

There were separate attacks from the local zombies outside, they breached the department's defences suddenly and attacked a dozen survivors and a few officers. The officers died, but the survivors were only slightly injured and kept underground for their safety. After some recent debate from the small numbers of the survivors, they theorised that the R.P.D. were dying out and were unfit from maintaining order. Many if not all the survivors fled for their lives and scattered, leaving the precinct without notice. They weren't safe, and they all thought the same, to leave the sinking ship and find their way out of the city.

All this happened ever since the hushed talk of the great massacre on the High Street. Cindy decided to stay put for Scott and wandered the department alone and armed; she found almost no one was around anymore. Some windows were smashed and boarded doors were wide open. The safe integrity of the department was flawed now, but there was still hope for a safe evacuation.

Officers that weren't killed in the constant attacks of the infected went missing and turned up dead. Those officers that went missing were found to be riddled with gunfire at the time their bodies were found. No civilians, just the officers. There was no word coming from STARS or the Chief Irons. She missed Zaac, and the rumours of him and the entirety of the police force being wiped out didn't help at all. She didn't know what to do, or how to feel.

She was alone underground. Dead bodies of the infected and officers littered the halls and rooms up above. She stayed underground. Mark and Kevin were helping the last few officers with whatever they were doing, seeing they have more experience in these matters than her, and she was safe below. Not the one to be a battle-hardened survivor, she was just a girl after all.

Without the faintest reminders of her working life, she only had herself and the memories that buried itself deep within her mind and body. Like poor Will or even what became of Jack if he ever finds out what happened to his bar. That cute black bow tie he gave her on her first day? Gone. Her brand new black skirt? Torn so short it barely covered her thighs. The grey vest? Gone. Everything that reminded her of better times was waning over time. Just like everything and everyone.

Things got better. Some survivors from Jack's Bar found refuge up above. The Employee, and the Reporter climber the gates. They had wild stories of finding a possible evacuation at the local Zoo, Cindy knew they had a notice board outside somewhere, they must've seen it. She decided not to. If the infection wasn't limited to just humans, then entering a zoo at this time is just suicide. Probably get killed by a giant zombie elephant or something. Then there was a story that they and the other three, the Doctor, Plumber and Student, all found a secret underground Umbrella facility. And to no surprise there was talk of the Apple Inn hotel, they got unlucky to walk through that hell without any supervision.

The remaining officers upstairs were sure to tell any new arrivals that the R.P.D. may or may not be wiped out, and the department wasn't a safe zone anymore. The Doctor, Student and Plumber never showed up. The Employee and Reporter stayed upstairs with Kevin and Mark. They got along well. Cindy was too depressed to get up and do anything. Morale was slipping.

A battered man in white shuffled out of a door to her right. It was the door to the holding cells, nothing much in there. He walked like he was human. Cindy raised her head from her lap and kept her hand close to her handgun, just in case it was just another infected. The man had bloody bandages around his chest and some blood in his blond hair. Then there was a smile. Cindy smiled and scrambled to her feet and ran to the man.

"Scott!" she cried happily. She promptly cuddled the man with all her strength. He grumbled in response.

"Cindy," he groaned, "it's good to see you."

Cindy's eyes were flushed, she sobbed slightly. Her arms still clutched Scott like there was no tomorrow. "I'm so glad to see you!"

"I missed you so much." He lets go of Cindy, she tries to hug him again, but he holds her back. "You infected?"

"No. You?"

"I'm fine. Glad you made it here in one piece. How're things doing here?"

"People are dropping like flies around here; the place is falling apart."

"Oh." Scott frowned and cleared his throat. "Is it that bad?"

Cindy decided not to inform him about the R.P.D. massacre from the lack of evidence, and the rumour was still fresh. The attacks from the outside were different. "Zombies have been pounding the walls, and some are getting inside! It's not safe here anymore."

"Shit! Really?"

"The officers upstairs are making arrangements to evacuate the department, but to where I don't know."

"Any place is better than here."

Cindy threw her arms. "I did nasty things to get here in one piece Scott, and I demand to know what the hell is happening to our town?"

"You might want to sit down for this." Scott directed her to a nice dry section on the garage's floor to sit on, but she pulled him away over to a red car. Scott didn't know the make of it since it was in repair and over the years he's always been pulled away from various things by her anyway. The good old days of dating her. They sat on the bonnet. They didn't make eye contact. Cindy kicked her feet to a jaunty tune.

"Those zombies out there," he continued, "are infected with the Tyrant Virus. It was a mutagen manufactured by Umbrella Incorporated. It was supposedly used to create biological weapons." He gave some time for Cindy to digest that information before he carried on. "A few days after the development of the superior G-virus, the old T-virus leaked into the city."

"So that pharmaceutical giant Umbrella is behind all this? Does that mean all those rumours are true?"

Scott frowned. "It would appear that way. Two years ago I was there to finalise the T-virus and help the development of the new G-virus. There was a leak in the Arklay Mountains in July. It only just spread into our city days ago."

"Scott…?" She whimpered. "You don't have anything to do with this do you?"

"I _was_ on the team that developed the viruses." His head sagged.

Cindy pushed Scott off the bonnet of the car. He was thrown onto his side. His bandages bed and he slowly rolled onto his back. She kicked his stomach in and just like that he felt like he was going to vomit. She stopped after she kicked him twice. "What on Earth were you thinking, Scott!?" Do you have any idea what happened to our city!?" A single lens of his glasses was cracked, and his eyes drifted on and off her. "How can you do something so… horrid!?" She sobbed, "I killed my best friend for Pete's sake!" His stomach started to bleed over the floor. She lost her temper, and some of the redness of her cheeks flushed. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to hurt you, baby."

"I think you did, Cindy. Believe me; I would've stopped while I was ahead but we needed the money. Even with all our funds put together, the medical bills would exhaust everything we got. We'd lose everything."

"Everything?"

"You were pregnant, my love. The job market was terrible, and everything I did was to pay our bills."

"I can't believe this, Scott."

"I'm not asking you to forgive and forget everything I did in Umbrella; I just want you to understand the truth." He stood up slowly; his legs were shaking under his weight. "I did everything I can to keep the infection from getting worse, even going as far as killing my colleagues..."

"What?!"

"Maybe you're not the right person to talk to about this."

"You're not making it any easier-"

"It's not like that, I mean-"

"No, wait. Listen." She sighed and rubbed her eyebrows disdainfully. "Forget it… I'm thrilled to see you, Scott. As long as we're together, we'll make it out of this. And I'm sorry I pushed you."

"Don't apologise; it's my fault. But you need to know I cannot stay here."

"W-Why?"

He walked away from the car, only a few steps and kept his eyes off her. He rubbed his neck a bit. "I have unfinished business with Umbrella."

"You're still working for them?" She frowned. "Really."

He turned and faced her sharply. "Hell no, I quit. There's the matter concerning Sherry, however..."

"Birkin?"

"Annette told her to wait at the R.P.D., can't remember when that was. I never saw her back at the Research Facility. I think she might be here already."

"What are we waiting for? Let's find her then."

"Someone's gonna need to stay here and keep an eye out for her while I look elsewhere."

"Are you suggesting I look for her on my own? Here?"

"Can you? Mean the world to me."

She launched herself at Scott and hugged him tightly. "Don't go, please!"

"I'd love to stay, my love, but I need to check out the facility in case Sherry isn't here."

"So you check down, and I check up? Why can't I come with you? We've been apart-"

"Please, Cindy..." She lets go of him. "I just want you and Sherry to be safe. It's too dangerous for you down there."

She sighed and shook her head. "I can take care of myself."

"Cindy. They're things down there in the facility that are worse than anything you could imagine. Look at me for fuck's sake, I worked there for six years, and I barely survived off the leftover scraps. You wouldn't fare much better."

"Gosh..."

"I can't protect you down there. At least up here, you're safe, and you can help by keeping an eye out for Sherry."

"While you check down below?" Scott nods in agreement. "Fine. I'll call you if I find her."

He smiled. "Thanks. She knows you, and she'll feel safer around you."

She folded her arms and frowned, her smile finally showed. It was almost infectious. "Once she's safe, we'll find a way out the city. Won't we?"

He smiled. "Of course we will."

"Can finally buy a house and raise Josh and..." She began to rub her shoulders, losing her trail of thoughts. "I cannot wait."

"I should probably mention that there's a slight chance I might not come back at all. If it comes to that, I just want you to do whatever you can to get out of the city alive. Most of this is my fault, and if I don't get out of the city alive, please promise me you will."

"Anything for our son."

"We can only pray it doesn't come to that." He brushed away his lab coat from his trouser pocket and took out a handgun inside. It was a loaded Browning HP. It's a very popular handgun. "You should take this, in case you need to protect yourself. Know how to use it?"

"Yeah." She took the handgun and put it in the gap of her black skirt. She didn't have any pockets, and thankfully there was space since Bob's Beretta ran out days ago. "Aim for the head. Right?"

He smiled. "That's my girl." He already had his Browning in his right hand, Cindy never knew he had it in his hand the entire time he arrived. His bloody hands were trembling. "I'm on the clock here; I need to go now."

"So soon?"

"Not making good time as it is."

"We won't waste any, I promise." She placed her hand on his strong chest, and her hand went towards his ear. Never liked kissing Scott with his glasses on so she raised them a bit higher over his forehead and let them sit over his ruffled hair. He brushed her hair and rested his other hand on her hip. Their eyes closed and they leant into a kiss.

Cindy pressed Scott up against the car's bonnet and held him closer; she felt his rugged body grind up against hers. It was getting hot down in the underground garage. They breathed heavily from the kisses. Cindy was eternally alone the last few days; ever since she became a mother, she missed the affection, no more than the average parent. In what could be their final moment together, she had to make it last. And what better way to that was some good old-fashioned alone time for adults.

"Oh, Scott," she breathed. "This is just what I needed."

"Me too, Cindy," he breathed in response. "I don't remember the last time we were alone like this."

Cindy pulled back and stopped kissing Scott and brushed his hair slowly. She played with it with her fingertips and put his cracked glasses back on. "I was thinking the same thing," she said, sounded as sweet as honey, like her always soft tone. Her personality was something to go down in legends. "It's been months since we were close like this." Scott smiled as she went on. "Even a terrible catastrophe like this can rear its beauty once in a while. Ironic… After all this, all I really wanted was an intimate moment with the one I love. I just needed my fiancée to be with me. To make me feel better. To give me the power to survive."

"I wish it was under better circumstances. You know I will always love you, Cindy, and nothing will change that, not even death. We have the most beautiful baby boy in the world, and I've never felt this much love in months."

"Would you say I'm glowing?" she giggled.

"Your personality is beyond glowing. My love, you are positively stunning."

"Aw, Scott..." She kissed him once more on the lips and lowered her gentle kisses down his neck.

Scott wrapped his arms around Cindy's waist and held her ass. Though her black skirt was plump and fresh, she fit her clothes perfectly. He lifted her off her feet and heaved her onto the red car's bonnet. The bonnet was at waist height and fairly long. It was an old car with little space for an engine and everything else, but it fit the mood. Cindy was placed on the bonnet gently on her back, she didn't stay down and sat up. She kissed him again. He loved her soft lips more than she did his. Her feet dangled.

"Oh, Scott," she breathed. "You don't know how much I needed this."

He breathed outside the kissing; it was the only way they avoided passing out. "Just some positive reinforcements, my love. It can do wonders."

"Look at us. We're so stressed." She ceased her kissing and smiled. "Where did our youth go?"

"What are you talking about? You still got it. Me? I'm the old man here-"

"Aw, you. Always the gentleman." She brushed his hair once more. "You're younger than me."

He smirked. "Only one year."

"At least you got your health..."

"Yeah… my health..." Scott thought his bill of health was something of a perk, though to add insult to injury it wasn't. He has been taking lines of cocaine for some time now, medically of course.


	10. Love they fiancee (NSFW)

She held my hands with hers and unravelled the arms around her back and leant back away slightly. Outstretching my arms, she forcefully rubbed my hands against the inside of her thighs, from her knees up to her waist. Then back down again and over towards the outside. I enjoyed this a lot; her skin was so silky smooth that I should probably consider buying her fewer beauty products this upcoming Christmas. If we got out of the city successfully that is.

Suffice to say, my restraint was failing, and my head slowly reared to her; I was clearly showing signs of excitement from her display, and she wanted to take advantage of that. Someone has to. She let my hands rest on each of her thighs and raised the fragments of her skirt to disclosed her white panties to the humid air. With a provoking smirk, there was a sudden small twinkle in her eyes. There was just enough light in the garage to see the beauty that is my beautiful wife. She'll be a keeper alright.

"We're both alone down here. I think you and me can share a quick moment together. What do you think?"

"I don't have time. Do I?"

"Then let's not waste any more time."

"Cindy, we're in public," I chuckled.

"I'm not hearing a no, Scott, and I'm definitely not hearing one from your body."

She got me there; I was just too easy. Cindy pressed spots on her pussy through her underwear and moaned softly to her work. She slid away her panties from her crotch and exposed it for me. She used the same hand and felt the inside of her lips with only her tips; they were quivering to the open air, her eyes were closing slightly. She was panting with her tongue out like a dog.

I didn't find that very arousing because it was less cute on others, but for Cindy, it worked to her advantage. She was always cute. One swift move she plunged two fingers into the lips of her pussy, entering her soft vaginal walls and feeling the warm juices within herself. She was now moaning and getting wetter between her legs. Pushing her index and middle finger into her smouldering crotch, they slid in easily inside the hot, slimy wetness of her moist slit. Her knuckle saturated itself with her delicious flavour.

"Gaaaaah" she breathed. "Unnnhhhh! Nff, auuuugh! Scotttttt… I can't do this on my own… Nkuuuu!"

"I have to admit; I'm enjoying the show."

"Nnnaaah, aaahhh! Nnn, aaauugh! Ah, aaahHHH!" A small puddle was forming under her. Scott wasn't sure what it was, but it was coming from her. "Nnnaaah, aaahhh! Nnn, aaauugh! H-Here, it feels fantastic right here… You better take me now!"

"Damn, Cindy. Just… wow. I just don't know how to respond to this."

"Looks like I have to make the first move." She rolled her eyes. "Again." She grabbed my tie and pulled me closer to her. I climbed onto the bonnet as she moved back further to fit both of us on. She stretched her back and arms, arms dangling over the edge but we both fitted well. Big enough to sleep on. "Oh, Scotty, I'm so hot," she breathed all giggly."

"Under the dim light, you are." I formed a bridge over her, my hands rested by her shoulders, and the knees were only just under her thighs. She was wide open to receive me, and I didn't know what to do next. _Come_ _on_ , _Scott_. I know all about Sex Ed. This is easy. I'm a teacher for fuck's sake.

"Your turn… Take off your coat."

"Oh. Righto," I said admittedly unsure. _It felt like weeks since I took off my old lab coat. It was fading anyway and threw it over the car's windshield._ "So that you know, I'm not totally down with this."

"There's a first time for everything, honey."

I unzipped my grey trousers; I wasn't exactly booming with confidence, I was feeling a tad skittish, public indecency wasn't really my thing. Although, the fact that this could be our last moment alone I just didn't care. Couldn't pass it up. I love her. Cindy unbuttoned her striped blouse and then her white bra seen the light of the mild night and was swiftly undone. Those nipples stiffened on the first contact. Her right hand drifted to her pussy, and her other groped her supple breasts. She moaned wearily.

I almost felt choked up and moved in closer with my cock pressing up close against her thigh. With the arms back over her shoulders, I pressed onwards into her and thought of our first time to entice me. "Oh… goodness..." She jerked with a sudden shiver trailing up her body and groaned loudly.

It was warm. The inside of Cindy's vaginal walls was a welcoming touch of pleasant times we had alone. Days we were alone at J's Bar, though it was frowned upon, the thrill of doing it at the workplace was a pleasure Cindy was guilty of. I didn't think her manager caught on, thank God. She pulled down her white bra and pulled off her lingerie and toyed with her stiff nipples. She flickered them first.

"Your mate is waiting." I thrust into her; she jerked and squealed. "Ooooo, that's what I wanted." She moved her thighs over mine and with a little strength, I scooted her up closer to me. No more leaning over, I pulled her to me and thrust into her again. It felt… invigorating! The thrill was something else. "Nnnhaaaa! So warm."

"I've… never… nnkkhh! You're gripping me tighter than usual..."

I pumped into her – inch after inch after inch. Deeper and deeper into her with every gyration of my hip. My movements were well coordinated and adjusted. For someone of my health… Cindy moaned louder with each stroke. "Fuck yeah! UHNN! UHNN!"

"Every time you bring your hips to me it feels better than the last. A fresh slice of heaven..."

"You're not… even a… religious man," she managed to breathe," that's a lovely compliment..."

"I may not… I may not believe… but it's never too late..." I always felt Cindy was a bit of a believer; I had Zaac to blame for that. No shame in that, just something I never knew. I hate not knowing things...

"Come here," she purred. I leant in for a kiss, a blessed one, one to write home about. A kiss full of euphoria. We kissed and kissed… started to slow down. I withdrew my length from within her and slammed my cock home again and again. "So deep… so… deeeeeeep!" Damn! Was she deprived or something? Hardly trying. I could hear my skin smack against hers with each sizeable stroke and beads of sweat dripped from my chest down to my stomach. My burning wounds down there started acting up, burning up quite badly. The cavities were irritating against the bandages. "Please! I want your... fiery little God … To send me to heaven!" How does one respond to that?

"Okay? You and I… are going to make... some miracles." Bad time to mention I'm about to pass out. "Cindy… we're switching over. My wounds are acting up."

She breathed quickly. "Yeah, sure," she said quickly. We rolled our bodies over the bonnet, closer to the end and now she was on top. My back felt much better being flat out where she was, and now it was time to ease into her rather than fucking her like an imbecile. My cock was still inside her warm slit; the walls inside were moist and ready to resume. My wound was sound asleep, almost numb though that didn't stop me from doing my part. This is all for Cindy's pleasure. Everything was for her and our son.

The cowgirl position served its purpose, only on the account I taken a few bullet to the torso some time ago… Not a favourable position though she loved it. Up and down constantly and soon enough she was bouncing her body on my, bucking away like a minx. The juices and sounds of her pussy stretching over my cock were something I never fully noticed. Was I that hung? Guess I do undermine myself in those important places. Outside every thrust we both breathed, outside every descent, we breathed again, in unison we never missed the beat of our bodies colliding. I felt a timed urge to explode.

"Ah… M-My mind is… going blank… nnh! Ngaaahh… aaahhh!"

"Don't worry about thinking," I breathed. Not like there's any room in there to think. "Just stay in heaven, my love."

"Haa… hhaaiiiee! Ahh… aagghu! What should… I do?"

"Come closer… down to me..." Cindy moved forward down to me, and her hands were over my shoulders. She was tiring down from the foreplay earlier, and I think it was showing, her breath was so hot and constant. I held her ass with each cheek by the handful and kept on going. Her moans outside breathing were more sexualized than before, and I felt like I wasn't the only one about to reach climax. I tickled one of her nipples with the tip of my tongue; it was quite long, that was a quality she craved and moved in unison.

"Keep moving… like that..." she breathed. "We'll break into heaven together! Haa… haaaa...aaagghhhu! You're all the way… all the way inside! Fuck! I can't take it… I'm gonna… Buuuuurrrrsst!"

"Spread your wings and fly."

"I can't… on my… own. Can't… last much… longer. Cum, damn it! Cum for me!" Gotta focus or she'll make me lose it too. Nice guys finish last, and I'm not finished just yet, I'm not that evil… I can't be… Down there she was feeling far too crazy. Her pussy was throbbing. I softly inched her weight back away from me and took hold of her wrists and carried forth. I thrust in and pulled her down; she bounced to keep balanced. A commendable effort. "HAHA! Again! Again!" she howled loudly, nearly at the top of her lungs. Being this close my ears would be shot. They barely tingled. "I'm gonna cooooome! Faster, fasteeeer!" she cheered. Dammit, woman, I'm not a horse!

"Keep… going... until bust..."

"I can't… hold it…"

"One shot... I only have... one shot, woman!"

"Your cock… your divine nectar… Give it to meeeeee! Let it all out inside of meeeeeee!" What? That didn't sound at all healthy… nor wise… So many thoughts were lined up for my brain to wrap around. Such a long list of thoughts, it could take hours to sort, one at the top would be the question of having another child. Would a second child dampen our love? Or another question would be on her ovulating? There was a list of thoughts to sort, but those were on a long waiting line and… and… "HHHIIAAAAAAA!" Aw fuck it, I'm going to hell when I die anyway. Might as well get in good with the Devil.

Hearing her beg for me to climax was enough to spill me over the top, weeks maybe a month of sexual restraint just exploded without my full consent. My body tensed up as I shot everything I had right up inside her. Feeling my cock pulsing inside was also more sensation for her body to indulge on. Cindy glimmered in an orgasmic display of tears and joy. My balls were burning up more than my wounds, I still wasn't done after the first load I emptied into her, there was the second load, and it just dragged on with me tired as an old fuck when it all finished. I was so spent over the limit at this point; I wouldn't mind the deposit and receipt.

"Your body is trembling I can barely move," I breathed heavily, all I could say before something bites me in the ass. "You're gripping me so tight..."

"The warmth… inside me is… coming out..." She wasn't wrong. Something warm was running down my thighs, through my damn trousers. Not sure if it'll stain… Cindy pulled my cock out of her pussy and let it flop. I was so exhausted I could hardly breathe, my arms fell at my sides. Cindy brushed against my shaft with her pussy, grinding it like it was a toy. Her personal toy. I couldn't carry on, so damn tired now.

"My head is spinning," she uttered lightly. "Best lay ever..."

"Oh goodness gracious. I'm knackered." Cindy fell gingerly on Scott and wrapped her arms around his head and kissed him on the lips. Their tongues danced with each other. Like a midsummer night's dream under the moonlight.

Scott grabbed his lab coat off the windshield and covered Cindy and himself from the cold air. He checked his watch; it was only a tick past noon. There was still plenty of time to be had. A rest was in order. A good nap is vital for a smart man like him anyway. Cindy was already asleep, slept on him like a log. "I love you, Scott," she whispered. Couldn't tell if she said that intentionally or within a dream.

Scott raised his right hand in the air and stared at the gold ring on his ring finger. The feeling was mutual. He wondered now and then if everything was worth it. Was he ready for the married life? A new career? Children…? In the end, with the woman of his dreams at his side, nothing could match the feeling of being an independent husband. One she'll love as much as he loves her. Life was good.

Hours later Scott woke. First, they were sleeping against the windshield as opposed to the bonnet. Cindy's bare chest was naked with her admittedly stunning breasts pressing against his left side. His trousers were zipped, his shirt was unbuttoned, and his bandaged wounds have since healed. No more bleeding. Did he dare to check his watch again?

It wasn't too bad, only half three in the afternoon. He shifted his weight ever so softly off the car, hoping not to wake Cindy, or he would get a good scolding for ruining one of her beauty naps. The car jerked once, and she was still in a deep sleep. He sighed and looked at the door he came through, the one to the holding cells. It was a long journey ahead, and Cindy was family. What could be done with such limited time?

There were a notepad and a small pencil in his rear pocket for notes. If he was to leave and get killed by whatever horrors ahead she'd have no way of knowing and waste her time wondering whatever happened to the one she loved. He started writing on a fresh piece of paper past all the notes he wrote over the weeks. Mostly old formulas and schematics, ones that don't mean anything to him anymore since Umbrella sold his humanity for a damned profit. Five minutes of scribbling was all he could spare for now.

"I love you," she murmured, taking a huge whiff of Scott's lab coat. She smiled so hard it could break a face, only she smiles more than the average person. She was accustomed to smiling all the time. He wore that coat for so long it smelt of his essence.

"I know," he said.

Scott reached the door to the holding cells and turned his head over his shoulder. He had a crude smirk; only when he wanted to, he shared that with his nefarious father. He exited the garage and Cindy was none the wiser, sound asleep. The despair that befallen her in just days was the worst thing that happened in her young life. Zombies, monsters and deaths of good people. It wouldn't end. Suddenly, the department's P.A. system came on after a bit of static. The voice as one of the sergeants in the department. A man by the name of Sergeant Marvin Branagh. The sudden announcement woke her up, almost in tears. She was just shaken.

"Listen up everyone!" he announced. "Help is on the way! Get to the front lobby!"

Cindy felt a great chill wafting on her chest and legs; they were bare. She cupped her breasts and scanned around for her bra and blouse, never remembered chucking them away but she did anyway. Her blouse and bra were nowhere to be seen, could both be under the car for all she knew and there was no time to check for certain. All she had was Scott's lab coat and sat on the floor was his handgun. She slid off the bonnet and already knew Scott was gone, and all she had to remember him was the coat over her shoulders. Her high heels were missing too, at least her stockings were intact.

There was a note by the handgun. Two small notes the size of her palm with something written on each side in perfect small handwriting. She put the Browning in an open space of her tattered skirt and flipped through the notes.

To my dearest Cindy.

Time is not on my side, my love. Right now as I write this, there are bad people after Sherry, and those people will only cause pain and misery to our family if I let them triumph. My acts cannot go unforgiven, and I'm afraid if I come to terms with my sins and regrets, I may have to do something to end it all. Though that beautiful moment we shared is the only thing keeping me going and seeing you and our baby son is the only thing that warms this black hole I dare call a heart.

I have gone back underground for Sherry, even if I don't come back at all I will do everything I can to make sure she does. As her guardian, I refuse to see the damage Umbrella caused me and William to be done to her. I promise you that if I survive, I will do everything I can to make up for my criminal acts against humanity and nature. But before that, I will see to it Sherry is free from Umbrella, even if I have to throw myself into the fire.

In light of the grim thoughts, I got word that there is another safe zone near the outside of Raccoon City, just beyond the river that passes through Pitville Park. There is a pier out there, a thousand strong in civilian refugees. Being a high ranking doctor has its advantages, though, you shouldn't worry about me too much, I have a plan to leave the city myself. If I can get Sherry on it, I can die happy. I'll do my best, I promise.

Doctor Scott Wimbleton Wesker.

Cindy shook her head with a sense of conflict and feel of disappointment. So soon? So soon that he was gone and help was knocking outside. Help was on the way, and Scott just stepped out. There was no time to inquire about the little girl Sherry Birkin, now that help just arrived, apparently. What to do? Leave now and have a chance to evacuate the city or stick around and look for Sherry? Both. Even if it meant nothing, every little bit helps ease his mind.

The safe zone wasn't getting any better and if she doesn't leave now, she might never. She put her arms into the sleeves of Scott's coat and took a big whiff. It smelt of either elderberries or old spice. Today was their favourite, Diesel. She wasn't cold anymore, and she fastened the buttons. Running around with her breasts bare would arouse suspicions and other things. She didn't care about her shoes.

A choice was to be made, and Cindy pondered on the thought, the thought that was dumped on her lap suddenly. Her handgun was loaded, and her mind was buzzing with energy, from all that reading she had several thoughts crashing into each other. If transport was legit, she could get to the pier, hell if she had to she'd swim the damned thing. The R.P.D. can drive there instead. She ran. She ran to do a quick scout, for Sherry. The girl, the one her fiancée loved as his own. The department was large with couple levels, but she was always a fast runner. Kevin and the guys can wait an extra minute for her to look around.


	11. Scott no more

Outside the BF4 security room was Scott and Claire, still talking in the underground Chemical Plant. Scott was doing more explaining to Claire's interrogation, but that was only because of Scott's questionable acts during his career. He did work for Umbrella Incorporated. It was in the late morning of Sunday, about half seven. Sunlight passed down the turntable platform, and the birds were singing, what a joy it would be to relish this lovely morning.

Scott was sat on the floor with his knees tucked in close, opposite Claire and just outside the room where Sherry still rested soundly. She was stable and time was still plentiful. Claire was slightly confused with herself on what to feel about Scott. She should be angry with him, seeing it was his actions that produced the damage to the city.

To put in consideration Raccoon City had a population of over a hundred thousand, Scott might have caused the deaths of at least a quarter of that. If he weren't a friend and the only hope to save Sherry, she would feel the urge to kill him, though he'd be getting off easy. He was never a bad guy; he was a real man to look up to. Like her brother, Chris.

The sadness in his posture. Behind his new glasses were the sad eyes of a means to an end, eyes being a window to the soul she saw his ravaged and left for dead by Umbrella's lies. He was a smart man that did everything he could to contain it all, but everyone knew that was his weakness, to control everything. The uncontrollable can't always be handled as easy as that; things break apart, chaos reigns and people get hurt. As a realist, his inability to grasp the situation earlier was a huge opportunity missed.

She'll have to get used to these complex feelings, with Umbrella exploiting people like Scott for their research, the next problem would be the identity of their next victim. That could be soon because Scott will most likely get executed for the damages if he doesn't do it himself.

"After I had left her," he said, carrying on the rest of his story, "I went back down to the facility to find Sherry. I walked in circles and found nothing and ended up in Chief Irons' office-"

"With me," she interrupted.

"Yeah, with you. The department was empty when I arrived, and everyone left. I hope they're all safe at the pier."

"Just missed all of them."

"Shit really hit the fan since Marcus' assassination. I just wonder if it was better that I pulled the trigger, rather than Richard. My hands weren't built for killing..." He opened his hands. Dried blood stained his palms, and his red fingers were cold. "If they were, none of this would've happened."

"I'm not sure if I wanted to hear all of that. Especially the part where you and Cindy-"

Scott held up his hand, and she hushed whatever she was planning to say. Likely to be something full of profanity. "Let's not go back there. It was harder for me to explain. I might never get to see her again soooo-"

"Don't."

"I wasn't-" Claire shushed Scott silent. His arms fell at his sides, and he stood. His knees ached from the lengthy period he got comfortable. "What did Zaac mean by 'I'm sorry'?"

"He's sorry for killing himself," he muttered sadly, almost sobbing. "He fell apart after the Mansion Incident, and I feared for his mental stability. He was there when our father… exposed his secret life and research… To think his Zaac was just a pawn or a stepping stone in one of his little experiments."

"How did you not know? You worked for Umbrella too."

"Even I didn't know he worked for Umbrella."

"The whole corporation is hell incarnate. No wonder you're so… distraught."

"Well, you heard everything… Are you gonna kill me now?"

"If I don't, someone else will, but we need to save Sherry first. Hopefully, Parker's still around." She walked away from Scott and headed straight for the door behind her. The same shutter door Parker used some minutes ago.

"Without any questions, we'll make perfect time. Now let's get us a vaccine." He followed after Claire, made a change not to lead. He matched her pace and overtook the lead; he knew where the P-4 lab, not her.

The closer they got to the door Scott had the realisation that they weren't alone. Footsteps got considerably louder after every step they took towards the door. Hard shoes like dress ones or boots, not like their soft ones. Just so happens that the footsteps matched Claire's and not Scott's. When he stopped to rear his head behind, she quickly glared at his. His jaw dropped, and suddenly a gunshot was heard echoing off the cruel walls, ringing their ears.

Scott's head jerked back. Something hit him in the forehead, and his body spun, stumbled, fell. Dead. Scott collapsed onto his back and never moved. No blood. No mess. His face was twisted with sudden shock. Claire couldn't breathe. Her feelings distorted and for a moment felt sick. She cried his name in tears before she dared rear her head as Scott did. A man.

A man in white was glowering at her. Behind his thin glasses, he stood a few steps away with a smug look on his face. Claire had an idea who it was. A certain madman. One that was said to be dead since that grizzly Mansion Incident. Wesker? Looked like him. Short blonde hair, strong chin and favoured a well-dressed suit and tie. Wait. Wesker never had a British accent.

She pulled her revolver from her pocket at such velocity it put the term quick draw to shame. Then it hit her; she wasn't fast enough to fire first. A bullet pierced through her left thigh and struck the wall behind her. It was quick the pain. Her Colt S.A.A. fell out of her hands before it was in her sights and leapt from her grasp. It tumbled across the floor and stopped at the man's feet. He stepped over it into her view.

His handgun was a small, German Walther series. Packed a smaller punch than hers or a Browning yet simply thinking about it hurt more than the cavity in her left thigh. She clutched the entry and exit wounds with her hands, and the bleeding was no more. She yelped with the slightest touch of her tender cavity. Her shoulder kept her upright, and she remained calm. Calm. Calm, like she wasn't shot by a total stranger. The man snickered before he spoke in his grimy British accent.

"I apologise, I am usually better at first impressions." Claire couldn't speak, she was too hurt, angry and at the same upset to even think about words. Scott was on the floor, like he was asleep, only he wasn't. Blood dribbled down his nose and mouth.

Claire felt words come rushing to her. They were in a jumbled mess, and she picked the only ones that wouldn't provoke the man, even when she wanted to tear the bastard apart. "Why did you kill him?!"

"Aw don't worry about Scotty; he's just sleeping. Poor boy's been working himself to death lately, thought I could relieve him of his duties."

"Who are you?"

"Only the ex-manager of this facility. That's all you need to know."

"Good for you," she grumbled sarcastically with a slight huff. "What are you doing here and why did you kill Scott!?"

"I came here for something my colleague was working on, and you my pretty, might be involved in this somehow. That appears to me as a slight problem."

"How?! How does this involve me and how the hell is it your problem?"

"You and Birkin's daughter. You're looking for DEVIL vaccine, are you not?"

"What's it to you?"

"Because that is something I require too, milady. We must cooperate to create one if you wish to save Birkin's daughter, I strongly advise you to agree with my terms."

"Why should I help you?" she growled. "You killed Scott!"

He shrugged. "I was doing the whole world a favour. That man has been the cause of so many problems it's slowly becoming a lifestyle choice but let's not dwell on those facts, no, no. Unless you'd rather create the vaccine on your own, you're coming with me."

"How did you know she was infected with G?"

"Helloooo? I'm the ex-manager. I still have access to the security systems around here. I spy on everyone."

"Give me a reason to trust you."

"Well you're not dead, there's that. And you have my word that a sample will be made." The man saluted with his free hand. "Scout's honour."

Claire didn't feel that he was really a scout. She couldn't say no, there wasn't a profit in turning the man down. And this man was a slimy one. He killed Scott. Only a snake shoots a man in the back. If he had a backbone, he should shoot a man in the chest and look him in the eye. Guess only real friends shoot you in the front. Not in the back like a snake. "Why would you want to help me help Sherry?"

"That's not your concern." He put away his Walther into his hip holster and walked to her. She cringed when he dragged her up on her feet. Her legs felt like jelly but when she withdrew her hands from her leg wound the bleeding dried and ceased. Barely able to walk herself. "Get up; we're making a vaccine."

"Can't you make it alone? Why on Earth do you need me?"

"You're a bargaining chip at worst, a good accomplice at best. Either way, you're useless to me dead." She groaned and huffed; there was nothing much to say. They walked to the door ahead with Claire's arm clutched tightly. Claire tried hard not to cry when they stepped past Scott's body, or through the pain of the fresh wound in her leg. When the door closed behind them, she cried.

Annette Parker was in a laboratory, the large sign outside said it was the P-4 lab. It took Annette a little over ten minutes to find the lab. The doors never really stood out over the other dozen doors in each of the three areas. Added to that were the very few signs around and the fact it was a few levels under the surface. She did give up on how lost she was and two minutes after that she was in Area C. One door needed some disk and one on the right turn was sealed shut. Then there was the P-4 lab on the left turn.

The medium-sized lab of the late William Birkin was empty of life. The computers and terminals were all in working order even in spite of the recent events that conspired earlier that week. The murder and the betrayal of the facility's Director, by his most trusted friend. Ironic. The small antechamber by the door had some lockers. Once for William, other Annette, Scott and someone called Richard. She never heard of him. They all required a small security key. The window to the larger interior was riddled with bloody holes. Glass shards crunched under her feet.

The lab is comprised of multiple desks with various science equipment littered all over them; she couldn't identify any of them. Adjacent to these desks were large machines used in the field of science, biology and virology. A large mixer and some sort of conventional oven. Annette wasn't sure how to use those either, though someone she knew might. She was only there to scout the area and see what she could do. She couldn't do much of anything. She walked around checking all the desks and tables.

She couldn't rifle through every desk and drawer for whatever she was looking for. What did Scott want her to do again? Just find the lab. Then what? Wait? Might as well look around and check out Scott's workplace. His boring office job of pressing buttons and writing medical jargon. A monitor at the desk in the far back was still warm and buzzing. With a wiggle of the mouse, the screen saver was gone, and the file explorer was open. Talk about convenient. Time for some spying in Umbrella affairs, after all, it was because of them her entire career fell apart. Time for some justice.

All the research files in the file explorer were locked with a password, she didn't know anyone who knew it, but it was the best way to kill time. She looked through the ones that weren't locked, and unfortunately, they were the ones that were still open for editing. All files but the one that was open were all locked. This file was a medical report. Dr Scott Wesker's one. Complete and filled in by his personal physician Lord Oswell E. Spencer. It didn't look good for him. His status was critical.

The information over his entire body was separated in parts like limbs, chest, stomach and other parts of the human anatomy. All colour coded and outlined with colours corresponding with damage. Blue being perfect and crimson being critical damage. Scott's body was in the green, but his head was dark orange. Side notes were documenting of his dependence on cocaine, epinephrine and apparently medicinal cannabis for his health degradation. Parker knew there must be some way to bring up these individual sections of his body for further detail and analysis, but she wasn't good with computers.

There was just enough information on his worst problem, his head. His brain in question. Parker was stunned to discover that Scott was lobotomised nearly two years ago and suffered from a slight mutation in the lining around his organ. She hoped it wasn't a form of cancer. Then there some notes from Dr William Birkin that looked like a weekly review of the person's work. She went through the most recent reviews since the older reviews were deleted...

09/16/98

Up to this day, I still question Dr Wesker's health concerning his experiments and documents. While his service is perfect, as expected from a prodigy, I feel he still resists the behaviour device and acts on his mortality. That was nearly two years ago, the device in question could be in dire need of repair. We cannot ignore it much longer, not when we are so close to finalising the G-virus.

Dr Wesker is, unfortunately, our most prized employee. If he suddenly gains his bearing and his integrity he could run our entire operation into the ground. I made a personal request to Lord Spencer to have his brain examined, but with the recent events going on I may have to do it myself.

09/09/98

This week our work on the G-virus is coming to a close, credit to Dr Wesker and even some on our questionable assistant Mr James. Hours of unpaid overtime was something I would personally not advise though Dr Wesker was just committed enough to do it. I was dreading on the finishing period of the G-virus stretching into December, but that will no longer be a factor.

I am starting to envy Dr Wesker, however. He shows the fiery ambition I, admittedly, boasted as a younger age and now I see him as the man I once was. This is not good news. I did some heinous things in my youth only to beat Ashford at her own game, Dr Wesker's ambition is not certain to me. What does he desire and more importantly, is he as brilliant as I am not to let ANYONE get in his way? He is my apprentice as I was to Dr Marcus...

09/02/98

Dr Wesker's work this week has been suitable thus far. There are no problems concerning our work. However, there is one problem I'm having with his use of drugs. I noticed he was taking his dose of cocaine outside his scheduled medicinal doses. I fear he might be addicted; we haven't got long until he shunts onto a path we can no longer control.

The use of drugs are only permitted with the authorisation of their supervisor, as long as our own pharmaceuticals make them. The smell is one thing, but now his body has these nervous twitches at the most unfortunate times. It's been two years now… Once we finalise G, we may have to do something about his place in Umbrella. His humanity is our weakness; our drugs can't be used to compress him forever.

A behaviour modifier device? Scott had a device implanted in him to warp his behaviour this entire time for two years? He might not be the evil person he is. It might all be a misunderstanding. It made sense to Parker. Umbrella is infamous for manipulating people into doing horrible things for their agenda, and she knew there would be ways to force it on others that resist. Was Scott vital? Was he really a prodigy? With a notepad in her rear pocket, she quickly took notes about Scott's affair.


End file.
